


The Hobbit: An Unexpected Interference

by MadameTortilla



Series: An Unexpected Interference [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, The Hobbit (2012), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Real World, British English, Courtship, Dwarves, Emotionally Constipated Thorin, F/M, Friendship, Jealousy, Khuzdul, Language Barrier, Possessive Behavior, Realistic, Romance, Saving Thrain, Sindarin, Stubborn Dwarves, Thorin Is an Idiot, Westron
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-29
Updated: 2015-11-11
Packaged: 2017-12-09 22:06:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 63,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/778499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MadameTortilla/pseuds/MadameTortilla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After stumbling over conspiracy and intrigue that involves everyone but her, Maria Cooper falls into Middle Earth. Against her better judgement, she saves an old man trapped in a ruin and goes through yet another ordeal just to return to her world. Language Barrier (Westron vs English).</p>
<p> Thorin/OC, slow build. Canon/Lore wise on both fandoms. </p>
<p>*Act I is DONE*<br/>*Act II is WIP*<br/>**Finally in Middle Earth**</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Act I - Chapter 1

 

 

 

 

 

**Disclaimer: I own nothing except Maria Cooper.**

**Chapter One: Curiosity**

_Curiosity is not a sin... But we should exercise caution with our curiosity... yes, indeed._

~J.K. Rowling, "The Pensieve," Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, 2000 spoken by the character Albus Dumbledore

* * *

 

 

  
**Act 1**

_"A story within a story."_

 

**_August 13th, 2004_ **

This story began on a warm summer afternoon.

When Maria Cooper heard the front door at Flourish and Blotts open for the millionth time, she assumed that another parent would be asking - no, demanding - to purchase their children’s book supplies as fast as possible. The ringing of a bell echoed loudly – and several times - over the hubbub in the store. This was a vexing contraption that seemed to get on her nerves more often than she would’ve liked. To top it, a slow but persistent migraine had insisted on buggering her for the day and, after running around to sort books, she had half a mind to send the next customer on their merry way.

At least books didn’t talk. On certain occasions they did switch places on their own accord, and while there was a high risk of maiming a finger or two, it was a much better prospect and less of an inconvenience.

She eyed a heavy Astronomy book critically. Of course, it was supposed to go on one of the higher shelves.

‘Miss?’

Maria turned around. It surprised her that a familiar wizard of inflated width loomed over her head, bearing a frown able to rival the most cantankerous man. She stared at him, eyebrows raised in polite puzzlement, pausing in mid-motion with her arm outstretched. Slowly her gaze lowered: first squinting at the ridiculous purple robes and then at the tall pile the man carried.

'Excuse me, Miss?' the gruff voice, combined with the racket was making her head throb. ‘I need your manager’s signature as soon as possible; the lads are waiting for orders outside,' the man pointed at the papers with one fat finger.

‘What’s this about?’ she asked, trying to glance at the papers on her tip toes. The word “ _payment_ ” stood out, but there was little else she could make sense of.

‘The new Defense books, Miss. Should’ve arrived the day before yesterday but the publisher had a problem with the printing.’

‘That’s not our concern, someone should’ve warned us beforehand,’ she grumbled, pinching the bridge of her nose. The dusty tomes she had been sorting lay forgotten on the floor. ‘Now we have at least fifteen families planted on the store and one witch demanding the books for free.’

The man shrugged. ‘And _that_ ain’t our problem Miss; take it out with the publisher.’

Maria sighed, closing her eyes tight. This was going to be a long day.

'Stay here, I'll call him,' she gave her wand a hasty flick and a dozen tomes obediently fell into place on the nearby shelves. 'Just don't leave, alright? Can't have you wandering around the store right now.'

She gave the man one last glance before swiftly fighting her way through the droves of witches and wizards who'd brought every living blood relative in search of school supplies. She spotted a considerable crowd before the counter, complaining and bellowing at an elderly witch dressed in midnight blue robes. Maria shot her a sympathetic look that went unseen, secretly pleased to be outside the range of angry customers.

In the back, the door leading to a small, restricted warehouse was home to some of the most ancient tomes and spell books. Often these were kept from the public eye. The place reminded Maria of a greenhouse, though there were some obvious deviations. She couldn’t imagine having had Herbology in such a silent and dimly lit environment; the warehouse was more of a tomb for old tomes, with its numerous shelves stacked to the ceiling and delicate glass displayers.

There was magic here, trapped within the books. It gathered in the air and rested on the walls, but this was the sort of magic that came from the written word. Too much of it, and the place started to get crowded.

She shivered, feeling a tingle. It was always cold here, even in summer.

She squinted in the darkness, closing the door behind her with a soft hiss. There was a faint light at the far end, but something else caught her eye: a broken table not very far from the entrance, flipped over and leaning against the strong stone walls that had hoarded more dust since the last time Maria entered the warehouse. Upon closer inspection, she spotted the remnants of doxy droppings and quickly gave two steps back, grimacing at the glowing blue-ish muck.

Straightening her back, she then turned her attention to the only occupied table further down. The heels of her shoes clicked across the floor, disturbing the otherwise silent warehouse. A strong, mold scent lingered in the air.

'Miss Cooper, what brings you here?' a surprised voice came from behind her. Maria jumped. 'Shouldn't you be tending to our customers?’

'Well, yes,' after catching her breath, she managed to have the decency to look sheepish. ‘But the usual bloke is waiting for you to sign for the new Defense books. He asked for you specifically,' she gave a shrug and leaned on the wall with her arms crossed. ‘Seems quite impatient, for some reason.'

There was the thump of a book being slam shut and the manager of Flourish and Blotts, a tall, lanky man with a sullen expression, came out from behind the massive shelves. He was holding a tome that sported a rather worn-out leather cover that had seen better days. Sighing, he gave Maria an exasperated glance and frowned, the thin lips beneath his mustache twitching irritably.

'Bureaucracy, Miss Cooper, is the devil's invention. You seem an intelligent young lady; trust me when I say no job description holding the words "administration" or "procedures" is worth the hours of stress unless you are able to delegate the task to someone else entirely,' the manager shut his eyes tightly and rubbed his temple before giving Maria a contemplative look. ‘I believe your job application mentioned you had been a member of Slytherin House?'

'Yes, that’s correct,' she said slowly, watching the other wizard with caution.

'Good,' the manager exhaled in relief. 'Then I trust you are well acquainted with Horace Slughorn? He is an old friend of mine, and has agreed to donate a few singular books to Flourish and Blotts. Unfortunately my presence is required elsewhere tonight and there will be no one here to welcome him.'

Maria stared.

‘When, exactly?’ she asked, trying not to sound too disgruntled.

The manager seemed deep in thought. 'Shortly before dinner time? I would appreciate if you were to make yourself available to receive this most generous addition, and see to it that the books are kept safe. We should be announcing a very special edition release in a fortnight, and this must to be taken care of with some urgency.'

'Of course,' said Maria in a clipped voice. She wondered if her headache couldn't get any worse. 'Anything else?' she added as an afterthought, but was blissfully ignored.

The manager clasped his hands together. ‘Now, off you go! I can already hear Mrs. Wimple's cries for assistance. There is much work to be done.'

‘Yes, sir.’

Maria's gaze followed the manager as he quickened his pace, opening the door out of the warehouse. Alone, she groaned, shoulders slumped. She stood in the dark for a while, trying to discern what had happened exactly, and wished for the day to be over.

oooOOOooo

Slughorn was _late_.

It was long after closing hours when Maria glanced at the lively green fire, cracking and hissing in the fireplace. Her stomach was dangerously close to start growling; dinner time had come and passed excruciatingly slow, and she had waited inside the store, hoping that the next odd rustling in the fireplace would be her former Professor. She fought the urge to roll her eyes when a short statured man with a large belly and an enormous silvery walrus-like mustache (1) appeared from the flames, his usually shiny bald head covered in a layer of dirt. She stifled a laugh, snorting inaudibly at the contrast between this wizard’s velvet robes, very proper and couth, and his disheveled appearance.

Half hidden in the shadows, she watched him fuss over a wooden box. It had fallen to the ground after a rather graceless attempt to swirl round in the fireplace, and turned out to be a nuisance to pick up again. Not that Maria was terribly interested in helping. The crate wasn’t very large per say, and she had expected something grand, – or rather, worthy of this late night shift – though perhaps, after all, great things did come in small packages?

'Professor Slughorn?' she called, standing from her comfortable chair behind the counter. 'I expect you arrived without issue?' she flashed a cynical smile at her former Professor that went unnoticed.

Slughorn’s gaze had wandered, searching between shelves and shadow, and he seemed lost in thought. Small lines and wrinkles appeared on his forehead, as his face contorted into a deeper frown. After a moment’s hesitation, he briskly marched towards Maria. A large hand enveloped hers for a handshake too dainty for a man of Slughorn’s considerable size.

Much to her chagrin, there was no sign of recognition, no hint of remembrance whatsoever, and she felt an upsurge of displeasure, trying hard not to scowl.

'Good evening, my dear,' said Slughorn, still slightly puzzled. He raised an eyebrow at Maria and glanced apprehensively around the dimly lit book store, so filled with life only hours ago and now eerily silent. 'I was expecting the manager of Flourish and Blotts to come and receive this,' he pointed at the wooden crate under his arm, and then back at Maria inquisitively. 'But it seems I was mistaken!'

She was taken aback, staring at the fat finger being waggled in front of her face with wide eyes. A new pounding on her forehead forced her to blink, the throbs of pain so strong that she felt her eyes were about to melt.

'I-I _apologize_ on his behalf for the inconvenience, but the manager had some pressing issues to deal with and regrettably was unable to be present at this time,' Maria answered through clenched teeth, but Slughorn did not seem to realize the tension as he shrugged her words off with a laugh and a wave of his hand.

She relaxed visibly when he withdrew his hand from her face.

'Unexpected but not altogether appalling, my dear. What matters is that our, er, investment arrived and now stays safe,' said Slughorn. 'I trust you have been informed about the necessary procedures?' He winked at her, and Maria felt her jaw harden in rightful frustration.

There was that word again, _procedures_. No wonder the manager didn’t want to be present at this hour, he simply wanted to delegate the task to someone else to fill in the paperwork –

Maria took a deep breath. She felt hungry now, and a little light-headed. The manager had burdened her with work during the rest of the day, assuming she would comply without complaining, and then left her to close the bookstore alone. The more she thought about it, the less pleased she was.

'Of course, rest assured that everything will be taken care of accordingly,' she said, and silently cursed Slughorn and the manager for involving her in their schemes.

'Excellent, excellent,’ Slughorn squinted at her. ‘Although old Cuthbert should be here…' he stopped, giving Maria an inquisitive stare. ‘Well, of course, I assume he’s been very busy.’

‘I… think so?’ she said, placing the wooden box carefully on the counter. It was heavier than it seemed, and she immediately regretted not using magic to lift it up. As expected, no help came from the Professor.

She glanced apprehensively at the roll of parchment Slughorn carried. Maybe her eyes were growing too tired, but it looked _long_ and official, and she wanted nothing more to leave. Unfortunately, there wasn’t a way to make the old wizard leave without sounding indelicate.

'And these are for you to sign,' said Slughorn, conjuring a pile of documents from beneath his cloak, and throwing them into Maria’s numb arms. ‘Preferably sooner rather than later; we wouldn’t want to burden ourselves with unnecessary formalities.’

‘Of course,’ said Maria in a small voice, though Slughorn didn’t seem to have heard her. He was straightening the velvet fabric of his robes on the prominent stomach, while admiring his reflection on a mirrored displayer.

'Well, my dear, it _is_ getting rather late and there's a dinner party I must attend. Have a good evening and give my best to Cuthbert!' Slughorn checked his pocket watch, unaware that Maria was clutching her wand to prevent herself from lashing out at him, or throwing the pile.

'Good evening,' Maria bit her lip to hold back a very loaded retort.

She watched as Slughorn entered the fireplace and then disappeared in the green flames, leaving her alone in Flourish and Blotts for the night. Impatiently sweeping an escaped curl from her eyes, Maria sighed at the thought of having to deal with a mountain of paperwork before going home. Her headache was nearly blinding now, though she believed this was due more to the fact that she was furious rather than merely from exhaustion anymore.

As she sat on the comfortable chair behind the counter, Maria took one of the quills and started going through all the paperwork. She fervently hoped no one would tell Slughorn about his dirty bald head during the dinner party.

oooOOOooo

It was much later when Maria threw her head back, running her hand through her neatly combed hair. Eyes clenched shut, she pinched the bridge of her nose and let out a distressed moan that echoed through the store, rumbling in the awful silence.

Her nose was a red mess: hours of handling books, cleaning dust and keeping old tomes were finally taking their toll. She stared with a pair of bloodshot eyes at the pile on the counter, frowning at the amount of signatures required of _her_ for four miserable books. This had never been part of her job description as a lowly employee, and by no means had she ever imagined the amount of paperwork required.

She exhaled heavily. _Necessary formalities,_ indeed; it had truly been a harrowing day.

The pile was left on top of the counter for the manager, neatly stacked and easily recognizable. Maria narrowed her eyes at the box, wondering what kind of books could be contained inside the unassuming crate. After an intense staring match, she reasoned that this ridiculous situation had automatically entitled her to have a first look.

‘ _Wingardium Leviosa_ ,’ she raised her wand at the box without looking at it, and marched to the warehouse with a lazy step.

The floorboards complained under the weight of her body, the clicking of heels creaking and grinding as she stalked up to the only candle lit table in the back. During the evenings, the warehouse was terrifying. Someone had left one of the smaller windows open, letting in a breeze keen on dancing with the candle flame. As a consequence, Maria was surrounded by flickering shadows. She clenched her jaw and stared straight ahead.

With a swish of her hand, the crate landed carefully on the table. It shook under the added weight, vibrating the floor under her feet. To top it, she felt someone else was in the warehouse with her, hidden in the shadows. She made a mental note to suggest a new Doxy purge in the nearby future.

Glancing around one last time, Maria touched the crate with the tip of her wand, puzzled at the lack of magical reaction. She then fumbled with the lock, marveling that the lid was not as hard to open as she had believed.

The lid opened with a squeaky creak; from the spines, Maria could tell there were at least four different books, each one with a different colour: red, green, blue and yellow. She was reminded of Hogwarts with its four houses and their respective colours and crests. These books, she inspected, had no inscription on the cover, no odd symbol. There was nothing to make them stand out. They were completely ordinary.

She wondered if Slughorn had stolen these books. Maybe they belonged to the library, and had been misplaced after the great Battle of Hogwarts. Or, perhaps, he obtained them from another source? Maria found it hard to believe that Slughorn would steal something so important. On the other hand, members of Slytherin were nothing if not pragmatic. Of course, pragmatism came in many shapes.

Hands shaking, she took the green book with extra care and opened it: it still smelled of mold and its pages were yellowish. This was certainly very old –

A single piece of parchment fell from the pages of the book. Maria’s eyebrows shot up. She closed the book and placed it on the table, bending to pick up the piece of parchment from the cold floor.

It was as yellowish as the book, but while the latter was written in archaic English this had some sort of hidden message in a language she didn't recognize. The writing was very delicate, quite beautiful to look upon. It certainly wouldn't do to leave it without proper inspection.

Maria was mystified; she stared at it with wide eyes for a while, quite curious as to what the strange symbols meant. She felt a pull towards it, as if this was something important that she was meant to have, and quickly decided it would do no harm to take it home. No one would miss a small piece of parchment when inside the wooden box lay four rarities of the utmost kind.

Maria shoved the parchment inside her robes. Then, she placed the book back in the crate and closed the lid, exiting the warehouse. She was anxious to discover what that writing meant – after a good night's sleep, of course. Her thoughts were on secret codes and curious messages while she hurried home, amused to have at least found something worth her time, after a heinous day.

 

 

 

Maria Cooper ( **[x](http://madametortilla-art.tumblr.com/)** ) by me.

 

 

 

* * *

 **EDITED (02/08/2014)** _**Chapter overhaul.** _

(1) Canon character description is book-wise, rather than from the movies. I find their depiction of the HP verse lacking and massively commercial. References come from the series themselves, the HP Lexicon and everything trustworthy I can find regarding HP. Maria is based on the unidentified bespectacled Slytherin girl in The Sorcerer’s Stone, one of the few movie add-ons I actually considered for this story.

The story is split in three Acts: first HP verse, then Middle Earth, then… we’ll see. It all depends on the characters.

I would like to thank everyone who left a comment and kudos. Your support is much appreciated :3

 


	2. Act I - Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maria meets a few old acquaintances and concocts a plan.

 

 

**Disclaimer: I own nothing except Maria Cooper.**

**Chapter Two: Chance Meetings  
**

_I solemnly swear that I am up to no good._

~~ [J.K. Rowling](http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/1077326.J_K_Rowling), _Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban_

* * *

 

 

 

The absence of the moon and stars was something that bothered Maria; she had moved out of her father's house in London into the country so that she could enjoy the beautiful night sky. The capital was too polluted and crowded for her tastes, and living outside the urban environment meant that Maria could grow her own small garden where she could tend to all sorts of plants used for brewing potions. The fact that she sell these same ingredients at the Apothecary in Diagon Alley for her own profit was a bonus.

 However, as she was climbing the stairs that led to the upper floor of her modest house, Maria couldn't help but feel puzzled about the recent events of her day. She couldn’t stop thinking about the strange piece of parchment she had found inside the red book. She was curious about decoding the meaning of those strange symbols. Perhaps it was a message, meant for someone deceased long ago or, in the worst case, a simple note without any particular meaning. This would certainly be the outcome that would disappoint Maria the most, but she vowed to herself that this mystery would be solved no matter the consequences. There was no language that couldn't be translated or symbol that couldn't be decoded, all she required was a logical mind and everything would fall into place.

 Maria opened the door to her room, the hinges uttering a grinding rusty noise she had grown accustomed to, and, with a tired sigh, stripped herself of all easily removable clothing. It was a warm summer night, a deep silence echoing through the fields surrounding the house that Maria found oddly comforting after a tiresome day. She placed her purse on top of her bed, her eyes wandering over the jacket and top scattered on the floor before she walked to the adjacent room in order to pour herself a bath.

The bathroom was not so small that she couldn't move freely, but it was dimly lit even with the few candles Maria placed near the bathtub. There was a small window some inches apart from the ceiling which usually reflected the moonlight, though on this moonless night it was barely recognizable. If it were not for the candlelight, the bathroom would have been pitch black.

'Bollocks,' she hissed, staring at the remaining tiny bar of soap left, making a mental note to buy a few needed house supplies the next day. With a lazy flick of her wand, Maria turned on the tap and warm water started running, quickly filling the bathtub. She disposed of the rest of her clothes, carelessly leaving them again on the floor and entered her bath, a content expression gracing her features.

The headache that had plagued Maria for most of the day was gradually fading, something she was greatly relieved about. Whoever had told her that a relaxing warm bath could do wonders for one's health and well-being was indeed a genius. At the moment, she couldn't ask for anything more soothing.

Maria leaned back and closed her eyes; she wondered whether tomorrow she should pay her father a visit, or simply write a letter.

The next day was Friday and, fortunately, she didn't need to work during the weekend. That would leave her plenty of time to tend to her new mystery and go back to her childhood home. Perhaps she could tempt her father into a walk in the woods, – they hadn't done so in a while - or she could simply keep him company while they discussed the latest news from the Ministry.

Knowing her father and his unyielding love for literature, maybe, it would be a good idea, to search his library and try to discover something that would help her decode the strange symbols written on her filched piece of parchment. Truly, Maria would look suspicious if she was caught in Flourish and Blotts in her endeavor; she couldn't risk losing anyone's favor within the store or appear distracted at work, for her income was at stake also. This had to be done with caution.

Or maybe, she thought shiftily, running what was left of the soap over her legs while contemplating a much more shady scenario, should she fail to uncover the meaning of her hidden message through conventional routes, the solution could very well lie in researching more dangerous tomes and a few necessary trips to Knockturn Alley.

Maria rose from the warm water, grabbing a soft towel to dry herself and stepped out of the bath. As she walked into her bedroom, Maria glanced at the purse lying on top of the bed, her mind consumed with curiosity. It was quite likely that her father would not approve of her actions and call this passing interest an obsession, though that would certainly not prevent Maria from appeasing her inquisitive character.

She dressed in a simple nightgown, appropriate for summer days, ignoring the scattered clothes on the floor and hung her purse on the doorknob before climbing into bed. Maria decided to write her father the next morning, hoping to learn whether he possessed anything that could help her decipher the note. Lulled by these thoughts, she quickly drifted to sleep.

 

oooOOOooo

 

'Mrs. Wimple?' Maria approached an elderly woman behind the counter, dressed in light blue robes, who seemed to have taken upon herself to re-arrange the file order of every book they had received in the last six months. Maria frowned and wondered if it wouldn't be easier to leave it in alphabetical order instead of chronological, but said nothing. 'Might I leave the store for a few minutes? I wish to send my father a letter.'

The elderly woman turned a pair of beady eyes on Maria and nodded. Mrs. Wimple was known as a woman of few words, having an ardent fascination with order and symmetry, something which could either work quite well or give the entire staff a migraine. No one ever forgot the incident with the Invisible books of Invisibility many years ago, except, of course, Mrs. Wimple who had been left in charge of their safe presentation to the public; even after all these years, only a few were found, while the others vanished without trace. The story had been re-told over the last decade a number of times and Maria already knew it by heart.

'I will return shortly.' Maria informed, stretching out her right arm to grab her purse. She marched straight to the entrance door, sparing a glance at the new customers who she would need to attend after returning from the owlery. She set her hand on the cool round knob and turned it, opening it with an easy push and gladly felt the daylight against her skin after yet another morning cooped up inside the store.

This was the season when Diagon-Alley was most crowded – she could certainly hear a commotion in the background – there was shouting somewhere in the distance and a waft of smoke billowed down the alley in the wind, no doubt coming from the Weasley's Wizard Wheezes.

 As she made her way through the alley, past wooden and stone-based buildings, Maria noticed the children clinging to their parents and gawking at the newest set of brooms, savoring the bright twinkle in their eyes as the parents were almost dragged to the Quidditch store. She shuffled past quickly and didn't bother to spare another glance.

 Fortunately Maria was on good terms with the owner of Eeylops Owl Emporium and the old witch was kind enough to let her borrow one of her owls, given that she pay a small sum every month. It had crossed her mind to actually buy one of the birds, but, after some thinking, she decided it would be wiser not to be responsible for another living being at this time. Maria did, however, have her sights set on one of the Kneazels at the Magical Menagerie and discovered she was quite fond of the furry creature. Perhaps, after a raise, she would be able to provide for it all the care and attention it required.

Maria stared at the sign hanging limply over the door of the Owl Emporium, wondering just how it had never crossed anyone's mind to fix or replace it, as it was barely suitable for such a respectable business. With one last glance at the dozen or so owls resting at the entrance, Maria pushed the door and entered the dimly lit shop; as usual, a rush of nausea surged through her.

After so many visits she figured her nose should be used to the foul smell of owl droppings, but the stench had always been such that Maria imagined it would intensify itself just to bother her, as if smell could have a mind of its own.

Maria promptly reached for her purse and removed a small handkerchief with which she covered her nose, marching to the counter where the Owl Emporium owner was tending to a customer, his slick white blond hair reminding her of someone very familiar –

'Maria Cooper, is that you?'

Raising her eyebrows in surprise, Maria felt a hand on her shoulder and turned to face Daphne Greengrass and her sister, Astoria. Her expression was now of even greater disbelief.

Daphne Greengrass was giving her a satisfied smirk which Maria had long since known and learned to suspect. The fact that Astoria had been presenting her with the same facial expression as a compliment wasn't very comforting. 'How long has it been, almost six months since we last met? I take it you've been too busy to answer my letters.'

Before Maria was able to come up with an answer, she heard Astoria: 'Why, you haven't even been to our monthly sessions!' Astoria drawled, petting a mesmerizing snow-white owl with particular care. 'And don't be ridiculous Daphne, if I recall correctly you have only sent one letter not long ago.'

Of course, she had forgotten to reply to Daphne. Conveniently enough, her time had to be strictly organized due to recent events at work and Maria had almost no blank spaces in her schedule to fill in with their "sessions".

 'I forgot,' Maria answered truthfully, careful not to remove the handkerchief from her nose. 'Although, if I may be so bold, even if Pansy's last speech on bad blood and the downfall of decent wizarding society members was certainly entertaining, I grew tired of her blabbering.' She gave this a thought and added: 'I mean this with as much offense as you can possibly imagine.'

As expected, both Daphne and Astoria feigned a pained expression, a wicked glint in their eyes. At this moment, Maria had no expectations of avoiding a certain blonde acquaintance, and briefly wondered what could be the reason for his sudden attendance to this heart-warming sisterly reunion at the local stench infested Emporium.

Maria found herself enveloped in a tight embrace as both sisters decided it would be an excellent idea to make a sandwich out of her. 'I reckon your observation is more than appreciated; you may poke all you wish since this is now considered a fairly free and organized society,' said Daphne. 'However, I should warn you we're not on speaking terms with Pansy at the moment, but that is a story for another time.'

'Yes, we urge you to ask for the details later on' confirmed Astoria, who had now returned to petting the beautiful owl. 'Also, there is an invitation with your name waiting: Tea and cake, in a fortnight, Pansy-less. Please, bring some of those chocolate muffins of yours, we promise to disclose all the latest gossip if we're well fed enough.'

Maria sighed in exasperation. 'I'll try, owl me as soon as you can and pray I don't forget again. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to send a letter to my father and return to work before my head gets ripped off -'

'Cooper, fancy seeing you here.'

Maria turned on her heels and rolled her eyes at Malfoy, this time not worrying about preventing the heavenly smelling handkerchief from leaving her nose. She took a deep breath. 'Hush. Right now I fancy finishing my last shift before lunch and actually eating something solid. We will catch up later, that's a promise. Just let me hurry and get things done!'

Malfoy crossed his arms and smirked. 'I couldn't help but to overhear: if you're going to send a letter, couldn't it have waited until lunchtime?'

'It's urgent, you nitwit.'

'Judging by your impossibly ill-mannered greeting, I'm leaning to believe your definition of urgent is but another word for unusual business. Fitting for a Slytherin, if I may add,' said Malfoy, clearly amused with the situation. Maria knew this was just an excuse for him to have a little fun at her expense, in his own friendly way. 'We shall leave you to your dealings, then. Mother expects us for lunch, we mustn't be late.'

Maria noticed how one of Malfoy's arms snaked around Astoria's waist, the content and overly relaxed demeanor she was bearing and the meaningful look her sister shared with her did not go overlooked by Maria.

Astoria gave the snow-white owl a last pet. 'Yes, Draco is right. We must go, though I think I shall return tomorrow and take this precious one with me.' Astoria kissed the owl's head, giving it a small peck on its beautiful feathers. 'Do confirm your visit shortly, we'll send a letter this evening. Until then, Maria.'

Maria nodded in acknowledgement and gave the sisters one last hug before turning to the counter as they left the store. She briefly wondered about the seemingly blossoming relationship between Malfoy and Astoria, but figured her curiosity would be satisfied after their meeting. At the moment she needed to send the letter and return to Flourish and Blotts as soon as possible, no doubt the manager would be looking for her. Furthermore, in the last ten minutes more clients had surely arrived, bringing their children. Horrible, badly behaved children…

'Miss Cooper, another letter?' said the store owner, looking at Maria with a pair of great blue eyes. As far as she knew, this old witch was estranged to the habit of blinking. 'Dear me, if only every father were shown this much attention from their child -'

Maria sighed. 'Well, you see, I'm in a hurry. You must have also overheard the conversation, I don't mean to be rude but -'

'Of course, I'll owl your father right away.' The old witch dismissed her with a wave of his hand. 'Best you return to the bookstore, I'm sure there is a long line of less than merry costumers waiting for help with their children's books.'

Maria mumbled an almost unintelligible thanks and quickly ran out of the Owl Emporium, relieved for the fresh air free of owl dropping stench. The streets were as crowded as before, but at least there was no screaming to be heard, which certainly meant that the Weasley's store had closed for lunch. There was still a lingering scent of smoke in the air, however, and it reached the alleys nearing Flourish and Blotts. Maria was not happy about this since it was certain that the store would also smell of smoke for the rest of the day.

Despite the crowded streets, Maria was fortunate not to trample anyone severely; among her victims were two merchants selling lucky charms and an elderly couple who proceeded to shout obscenities at her, regardless of Maria's apologies. The words came out slightly incoherent as she kept running, sparing little more than a glance at those behind her.

Maria sprinted through the streets until she reached the front door of Flourish and Blotts, slightly out of breath. She made to turn the cool round knob with the distinct feeling that her day would be as uneventful as possible, despite the brawl that seemed to be taking place inside the store. A heavy sigh escaped her lips; this was not altogether unusual. In fact, scuffles were commonplace enough that a classified posting for the assistant manager position required that he or she be good at "breaking up fights". This one was apparently about the purchase of an old tome, as far as Maria could tell from the hardcover: some of the staff made desperate attempts to calm two gentlemen clad in travelling cloaks, their efforts barely acknowledged.

Squinting against the sun's reflection in the door's glass panes, Maria turned the knob and bolted inside the store.

 

 

 

 

oooOOOooo

 

Many hours later, Maria sat languidly at the desk in her bedroom, holding a letter in her hand. The expression on her face was of tired resignation as she read the letter's contents. It was progress, yes, but as far as she was concerned time and patience were two things she had little of at the moment.

 _My dearest daughter_ , it read.

_I apologize for the delayed reply, but this was by far one of the worse days at the Ministry, as of late. If you would indulge your old man on having dinner this Saturday, however, it would make him very happy._

She stared blankly at the letter. Deep in her mind, Maria wondered about the possibility of never finding what the delicate words corresponded to, or if they were even words at all. After another afternoon spent dealing with a few quite berserk costumers, breaking up fights and tracking books out of their shelves, Maria had had little to no time for researching. The Ancient Runes and Old Language tomes were far too numerous and she, in any case, did not want to appear sidetracked at work. A little after-hours gallivanting was not so simple either, since the manager had taken it upon himself to ensure the safety of the new special books and close the store himself, after the rest of the employers left, every night until their launching.

In case her father was unable to help, she figured Knockturn Alley would be a conceivable solution. Either it was down to a questionable stroll during lunchtime when no one would be paying attention to her, or she could simply wait for the limited edition fuss to be over.

After several minutes' thought, Maria took a quill and a small piece of parchment from the drawer in her desk and began scribbling a short reply to her father; the faint scratch of the quill on parchment was the only noise to break the silence of her room.

_Affirmative._

_Try not to overwork yourself, it seems hardly healthy to do so at your age. Also, expect chocolate muffins._

'There,' Maria said out loud, examining the piece of parchment before folding it neatly. She stood from her chair and marched to the open window behind her, where an owl rested peacefully with its head tucked beneath a strong, grey wing; she caressed it with care.

'Will you take this to my father?' she asked in a softer tone than she was accustomed, glancing at the owl with tired eyes. The owl seemed to understand, although clearly bothered that its sleep had been disturbed at such a late hour, for it extended one of its legs and snatched the piece of parchment from Maria's hands. Seconds later, the owl was flying into the night. Maria yawned.

She moved across the dimly lit room, feeling increasingly tired. At the far end, next to the bathroom door, was a solid bookcase lacking in its intended purpose: it contained but five books, three on Potions, one in Charms and the remaining one on Ancient Runes. Maria examined the latter's hardcover and brought it with her to bed, forcing herself into a bit of a late night reading, before her eyes closed.

Once again, she had found nothing that could help her uncover the meaning behind the delicate letterings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is originally 20,000 words long, but after some pondering, I decided it would be simpler to split it in four parts. The first Act of this story has 6 or seven chapters to go, I have yet to think how to split the supposed third chapter (also nearing 20,000 words). Meanwhile, I apologize for the delay, but the Summer was hectic and between my grandfather’s terminal illness and the hard time paying for college, things haven’t been going so well. Rest assured, more chapters to come, the next one will be uploaded on the 28th of October. The waiting period will be 2 weeks unless I anticipate something will prevent me from doing so. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter. As stated previously, this will be a story inside a story; I figured it would not be realistic for this crossover to happen without something drastic that sends Maria to Middle Earth. Also, for realistic purposes, there will be a language barrier. For all Tolkien and Harry Potter fans alike, it would be a sin to pretend Westron and English are the same, eheh. Yes, I like to make Maria suffer. I believe you will enjoy it also.
> 
> Feedback is appreciated!


	3. Act I - Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maria has an enlightening conversation with her father.

 

 

**Disclaimer: I own nothing except Maria Cooper.**

**Chapter Three: Interesting Twists  
**

_Never trust anything that can think for itself if you can't see where it keeps its brain._

~J.K. Rowling, _Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets_

* * *

Maria turned on the spot, vanishing into the compressing darkness, and felt herself being squeezed through space and time. Seconds later, her lungs expanded gratefully and she opened her eyes to a familiar dimly lit alleyway; tall houses looked down on her from every side, the grey walls claustrophobically close. Were it not for the Muggle vehicles crossing the road ahead, Maria thought it resembled Knockturn-Alley a lot. Much to her dismay, the weather still felt very hot outside.

Hiding her wand inside her cloak, Maria rushed forward into the streets, the heels of her shoes echoing over the pavement, accompanied by the faint rustling of the heavy bag on her shoulder rubbing against her robes. It was still early, not yet dinner time, but the absence of Muggles puzzled Maria who turned left sharply, eyeing the street with some wariness. She was silent enough so that she didn't draw any attention to herself leaving a dark alley at sundown, which provided her some liberty to observe the surroundings without raising suspicion. Apart from an elderly couple at the bus stop, there were only a few passerby's' who didn't spare her more than a glance.

She stopped in front of one of the tall grey walled houses and looked up at one of the balconies, raising a hand in front of her eyes to block the sun. A tall man clad in blue appeared on the edge of the balcony smoking a pipe, signaling her from above with a wave of his hand. Despite herself, Maria shook her head at the smoke puff circles the man exhaled from above, though she was smiling, and raced up the stone steps. She then tapped the front door once with her wand, carefully withdrawing it from beneath her cloak. She heard a series of metallic clicks and the clatter of a chain, then the door swung open with a creak and Maria hurried over the threshold, closing the door behind her.

There was a notable difference between the hot weather outside the house and the cool temperature inside. While the entrance hallway itself was not very large, it was decorated in soft colours and modest furniture that made the place appear comfortable, despite a certain underlying strictness. Ahead of Maria was a wooden staircase leading to the upper floor and down the hallway, an open door that seemed to connect the entrance to a basement. On either side of her were two arched entryways, one leading to the dining room on her left and to a living room on the right. Both rooms were decorated similarly to the entrance, albeit with the addition of various shelves filled with books and statuettes of fantastic creatures.

Maria took a step forward and examined the living room: on top of the fireplace was a small bust of a goblin that she recognized from her History of Magic lessons. The goblin's face was contorted in a nasty mid scream, and she recalled that this was Urg the Unclean, rebel leader of the famous 18th century Goblin Rebellion. Snickering at the memory, she vaguely recalled having owned a Chocolate Frog Card featuring the dissident leader when she was still at Hogwarts. They were interesting little beasts, highly intelligent hominids with long fingers and feet that had coexisted with wizards for centuries and controlled the wizarding economy to a large extent. Like most witches and wizards, Maria could not find it in herself to approve of goblins mainly due to a reasonable amount of fear instigated by their values and abilities.

Moments later, she heard the staircase creaking with heavy steps and turned on her spot, looking at the blue clad man from before with a beaming smile. He too seemed pleased with her presence, welcoming Maria with open arms and a grin beneath his greying moustache.

'I see you've been torturing yourself again with Urg's shortcomings,' he told Maria, enveloping her in a tight embrace. He had a strong tobacco scent in his clothes that made Maria's nose crinkle and itch. 'It's been a while since you stared at that bust so intently.'

Maria chuckled softly and gazed at her father's wrinkled face; it had been a while since she had last seen him. As she feared, her father seemed to have lost some weight, and no doubt sleep, recently over work from the looks of the bags underneath his black rimmed glasses. Aging had not been kind to him and this worried her.

'I was thinking about goblins, that's all.' She said dismissively, reaching for her bag. 'Speaking of which,' Maria opened the bag and carefully withdrew a tightly wrapped tray of chocolate muffins. Some were still warm. 'I don't think they would appreciate this sort of diet. I hear they enjoy meat, roots and fungi. Not that I'm complaining, mind you, the risk of theft decreases.'

Her father laughed and took the tray into his hands, eyeing the muffins greedily.

'I suggest we ensure these are well kept until dessert, perhaps for a late night tea? In any case, go up into the study room while I see to them. I shall be there in a moment.'

Maria nodded, placed her bag on top of a chair in the entrance and felt herself receiving a soft kiss on the forehead before she climbed up the creaking stairs, listening intently for any sign of muffin theft. As she reached the top of the staircase, Maria heard the faint sound of paper being unwrapped and stopped in her tracks, one elbow propped on the wooden banister with an amused look on her face as she waited for her father to finish the muffin he was most surely currently munching.

'Should I have said that no before-dinner treats were allowed?' She said, loud enough to be heard in the kitchen. When no answer came, Maria let out a short laugh and continued her way into the study, traversing a hallway decorated in a mixture of soft blues and greens. The upper floor did not lack books; it seemed that the whole house was stacked with shelves and boxes that littered the floor, containing books and tomes of every kind. Knowing her father was an organized man, Maria assumed he had ordered the house elf to clean the dust off old volumes and re-organize them back in his personal library. It seemed fitting; surely he had acquired more to add to his collection.

Reaching the door to the study, she swung it inwards and entered, cringing at the horrible smell of tobacco again. This room was warmer than the rest of the house, it was fairly obvious that the Charm used to cool the remaining compartments had no effect here or this was simply the one room where it had not been cast. Or maybe- she took out her wand beneath her cloak and swished it in the air, closing the balcony door – there was a third option.

Indeed she was right, the temperature lowered extensively in a matter of seconds and Maria felt she could breathe again. It must have been a consequence of being born so close to winter, but she'd always had a hard time standing heat.

Maria looked around the study, taking in the massive bookshelves, the boxes pilled in a neat corner on the floor and the old cushioned chair she had fallen asleep on so many times. She approached the chair so she could sit and leaned back, sighing heavily. This had always been a large study, meant to accommodate most of the family's library and it was still the same as she remembered. Ever since she was a child, this room had remained the same, albeit with little modifications. These included two new desks and more books almost every month. The tobacco smell, however, was terrible.

'When did you take up smoking again?' Maria absently asked her father when he entered the study. She had not been sitting for long when he entered, but had busied herself with going through some of the papers on his desk. She had gotten very interested in a particular file that seemed to recount the fate of Ludo Bagman and the hoard of goblins he had swindled a few years before, during the Quidditch World Cup, but it was snatched from her hands before she could read it further.

'We mustn't touch what isn't ours, Maria.' Her father reprimanded, placing the file inside the desk's first drawer on her right, face down, so she couldn't get another glimpse.

'It's only a problem if you get caught,' she replied a little too casually, propping her elbow on the desk to rest her chin in her hand. 'Although I'm sure close family doesn't count when it comes to Ministry secrecy, but you didn't answer my question. When exactly did you start smoking again? Certainly not the last time I came home.'

This earned her a raised eyebrow and a stern glance, but Maria further pressed the subject. 'What I meant was that this might be prejudicial for your health in the long run. Remember that daughters should also have a say in their father's bad habits; you always voiced your opinion on mine.'

'A father's interest is different.' Maria's father replied after a short silence, staring into her eyes as if daring her to defy his words. Maria opened her mouth to riposte with a very offended speech on how that argument had no basis whatsoever, but decided to drop the subject for a while. There was no reason to jeopardize their reunion with an argument scarce minutes after her arrival, though eventually she would find an opportune moment to pick it up again.

'Well, then tell me what this gibberish about Ludo Bagman and the goblins is, at least.' It was likely that her father would answer this question, Maria just felt very curious about the whole situation. If she recalled correctly, this shady business had proved problematical during the Second Wizarding War since Bagman had been both a wizard and a Ministry official when he swindled the group of goblins. The goblins had become neutral during the war and a few of their families had even been killed by Death Eaters, but Bagman had remained hidden and unheard from ever since the Quidditch World Cup. That some news of his whereabouts had reached the Ministry almost a decade later was beyond riveting.

Her father sighed, rubbing his temple while Maria watched him curiously; he seemed tired, that was certain. She didn't remember seeing him like this ever since You-Know-Who's second rise to power and Dirk Cresswell's imprisonment. Those were hard times for them both; the Death Eaters had taken over the Ministry all but officially and her father had been named Head of the Goblin Liason Office. Maria's seventh year at Hogwarts wasn't exactly easy due to her blood status, though she didn't suffer at anyone's hands, fortunately. Maria had never been one to answer back to possibly violent wizards as some of the Gryffindors did, so she appeared obedient enough and they had left her alone most of the time.

Judging by how tense her father suddenly became at the mention of the topic, Maria assumed some of his sleepless nights were connected with Ludo Bagman and the goblins. The idea of her father exhausting himself over this and a rather far-fetched possibility of conflict between wizards and goblins were both deeply disconcerting to her.

‘I remember him during the Triwizard Tournament,’ Maria insisted, pressing for her father to answer her question. ‘Some people said he favored Harry Potter over Cedric Diggory, and if I recall correctly some of his vices included obsessive gambling. Or so it was said.’

‘Who said?’ Her father asked apprehensively, raising his eyebrows in Maria’s direction. She frowned, wondering what was behind such a reaction.

‘You know how gossip travels in Hogwarts; at least I don’t know who thought of saying these things in the first place, I just happened to hear them. However, it’s a very interesting situation! How did Ludo Bagman, Master swindler of Goblins, manage to stay hidden for this long? It seems he has some intelligence left, after all.’

He certainly did. No one could be thick enough to trick a group of goblins of their precious gold and hide for almost ten years without a brain, no matter how poorly it was used.

Pulling the left sleeve of his robes up, Maria’s father checked his watch before replying. He seemed to be deep in thought, as if something had just crossed his mind. ‘According to Bagman himself, he hid in the North for quite some time. The rest are only assumptions. At the moment he is receiving care from St Mungos’s healers and hasn’t given a proper testimony yet.’

Maria’s frown deepened considerably. ‘Why would he require the healers to attend to him so promptly?’

‘He didn’t.’ Her father patted her shoulder, urging her to stand up. ‘We’ll talk on our way to the dining room. Come along.’

With a nod of her head, Maria quickly stood up and hurried to follow her father’s steps, her brain working for a mile an hour. There were so many questions she wanted to ask, but judging from how tense her father felt about this subject, she had to be careful about what to say. ‘A precaution, then?’ she asked, descending the stairs. While internally over-eager for information, Maria now appeared calm and collected. ‘It would make sense; Bagman was on the run for almost a decade.’

‘Bagman was found by the same group of goblins he swindled, recently. They were preying on revenge and, as such, the results were not easy to behold.’

Before Maria could answer, she paused for a few seconds to take in the dining table and the room surrounding her. It had been a while since she had come to her childhood home, but it never ceased to amaze her just how warm the familiarity of this house made her feel. Even after a few years of living alone outside the city, in a rented house, returning home, no matter how brief the visit, was always soothing. Unlike the study, this room had less of a library, but what it lacked in books it compensated in furniture and small statuettes here and there. Despite the few disconcerting mythical creatures her father seemed so fond of, the room had a very comfortable feeling to it.

‘How could they possibly take so long to find one man?’ She asked, eyeing the furniture. Maria wondered why her father had never replaced the old armchair; it had to be the least comfortable seat she had ever sat on, certainly made of the remnants of dry tree bark and a cushion so hard as if it was made of bones. ‘Bagman’s surely not shifty enough to flee from an entire horde of goblins. I’d thought him a dead man, had I not laid my eyes on that secret file of yours.’

‘I pray you never will again.’ Her father said, gesturing for Maria to sit down next to him at the table. There was already a bowl of hot soup on her plate, no doubt charmed to keep warm, courtesy of their house elf that had disappeared for the night –

Maria held the spoon to eye level, looked at her father, and then looked back at the chicken’s glassy eyeball floating in her soup. She had never had a meal stare at her before, so this was a new experience for her. Much to her confusion, the smell was certainly appealing; it was the sight of eyeballs that made her repulsed.

Maria coughed. ‘Who… who made this?’

Her father slurped the soup contently, drips hanging on his moustache. ‘I did,’ he mumbled through a mouthful. ‘A bit more challenging than expected, but nothing I couldn’t handle.’ Maria stared at her father in silence, as he continued explaining: ‘Figured that it was high time to learn how to cook properly. In fact, the entire dinner was made by your pa’, tonight.’

‘Ah.’ Maria said, barely holding her strangled whine. She didn’t know what to say without hurting her father’s feelings; he seemed so proud of himself, grinning boyishly beneath his dripping mustache that she didn’t have the heart to voice her thoughts. Maria tried discreetly to push the soup aside and search for something more identifiable, but for some reason her father’s eyes were on her and it was hard for her to do something else other than eat under his watchful, imploring stare. Maria tried to think of an excuse to get out of eating it. Had she known the ingredients used she could admit to a nameless allergy to avoid the meal and lessen the disappointment her father would feel. However, since she was given no such choice, Maria settled for continuing their conversation.

‘You were saying?’ Her father gave her an odd look, gazing up from his meal. ‘About Bagman.’ Maria explained with a hint of frustration on her voice. ‘I’m sure that if someone badly intentioned caught wind of this story-’

‘Someone already _did_.’ The reply came brusquely, but despite the reproachful tone Maria felt a burning feeling of victory. She could finally begin to understand some of the underlying events that were surely causing commotion within the Ministry.

She looked at her father intently, halfway through a spoonful of soup. ‘Who…?’

‘That meddlesome journalist, Rita Skeeter.’ This piece of information was far too alarming; there were far too many things that could go wrong whenever the dreadful harpy was involved. Distracted, Maria tilted her spoon sideways and dropped most of the soup back into her plate, not even noticing that a few drops had smeared her robes.

‘What a nuisance!’ She yelped in outrage. ‘I didn’t read anything on the Prophet regarding Bagman lately, surely a member of the Ministry managed to convince her not to publish the story?’ Maria stared, bewildered, as her father put down his spoon and ran a hand through his greying hair, understanding his worry more in depth for the first time during that day. After a moment of silence, she spoke. ‘It’s going to be on tomorrow morning’s edition, isn’t it?’

This earned Maria a small chuckle from her father. ‘I can’t seem to decide if I am blessed or cursed for having such a sharp daughter. The latter seems a wiser option to consider, and I fear for the consequences of your undying curiosity.’ He patted her left hand gently. ‘On a final note regarding this ordeal, my main concern will be the goblins. I don’t believe even for a second that they will let this opportunity pass, but the Ministry shall provide Bagman the safety he requires.’

Maria nodded, deciding to drop the subject for the time being, even if she had many questions she would like to get answered. Maybe after the storm passed she could ask her father again for more information on this matter. Certainly there would be a right moment to dwell further on the fate of Ludo Bagman and his swindling, but at this moment Maria wanted nothing more than to assure her father that he could have some time to relax.

‘A charming situation, I imagine.’ She huffed, staring at the floating chicken’s eyeballs in her soup, deep in thought. ‘Well, I shall let you know if anything odd should come up. Hopefully this will fade in the next few weeks.’

‘Doubtfully.’ Raising his eyebrows, Maria’s father crossed his arms and seemed to be examining her face, as if there was something he was trying to decide. Maria frowned at this, regarding her father with inquisitive eyes, though she chose to say nothing. At last, after a long moment of silence, he spoke, his tone neutral. ‘Do tell me; are you happy at Flourish & Blotts?’

Maria’s frown deepened, her eyes narrowing for less than a second. Whatever the reason this topic held, she had no clue. She did feel rather frustrated at the sudden change of topic, though she understood that some things were not meant to be spoken about before their time. It was the unexpected question regarding her livelihood that triggered caution.

‘I believe so, yes.’ Maria was suspicious and so she forced herself to appear calm and collected. ‘The salary is reasonable and the rest of the staff bearable, so I would consider my employment better than most. May I ask the purpose of this conversation?’

‘There will soon be a job opening for the position of Secretary in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. As I hear, the Department Head’s former main secretary recently retired after many decades of faithful service, and the newest secretary who took the place was deemed unfit and quickly dispatched to another Office.’ Her father paused, waiting for a reaction. ‘This could be a great opportunity for you to take, Maria. Perhaps in five years you would be placed in a higher rank or change departments, should you prove yourself up for the task –‘

Maria let out a breath she didn’t know she had been holding. ‘I’ll think about it.’ Maria breathed; her lips were parted in genuine surprise at this turn of events. One minute the conversation headed towards the misfortunes of others and the next it changed into her own future prospects of stability. ‘When can I apply? Should I send an owl today or wait until the week starts?’

There was a glint of emotion in her father’s eyes that Maria could not place, but somehow it made her anxious. Although she didn’t want to commit herself to this proposition yet, once she thought about it carefully, there were a few aspects to be considered. There was much truth in her father’s words and Maria was more than aware of the limitations of her current work post: for one, in terms of salary, raises were not at all frequent or that substantial. She had enough to provide for herself, but at the same time it hurt her pride to even think she would stay as a store clerk for the rest of her life. There were surely other paths for her to take and, with this boost of work experience, perhaps she would be considered fit to take the place.

However, if Maria knew her father well, then he would have certainly anticipated her answer and offered his own valuable “recommendation”. It suited her, of course, and she felt no shade of remorse for the remaining unknown candidates. One had to make use of one’s own weapons.

‘Working in Flourish & Blotts will take you nowhere. I would advise sending a letter Monday morning, along with a letter of recommendation from your employer, though I am certain you would be called for an interview nonetheless. Even so, this would be the safest option and I urge you to think carefully about it.’ Her father looked at Maria as if examining her and smiled, eyeing her full bowl of chicken soup with an amused twitch of his mustache. ‘Dear, do eat. We still have the second course and dessert to finish afterwards. Your grandmother was kind enough to share her secret pudding recipe for our dinner, and I would be delighted to have your approval on my newly-discovered set of skills.’

Despite herself, Maria froze in mid movement, staying very still with a glass of water barely touching her lips. After a moment, she took a slow sip, put the empty glass back onto the table and swallowed hard, thinking about how she would prefer breaking a fight between costumers.

With plenty of trepidation, Maria braced herself for the inevitable moment and slowly put a spoonful of soup in her mouth. At first, she tried to swallow the soup quickly but the strong, spicy flavor, so unlike the usual chicken soup she was accustomed, made it impossible. Maria’s eyes bulged and she started to cough, pressing a napkin to her mouth so she wouldn’t spit it out. 

‘It’s lovely.’ Maria said weakly, wiping at her tears, without taking her eyes from staring forward, never at her father’s face. ‘A gastronomical delicatessen, some would say.’

‘Would you?’ Her father asked, carefully folding his napkin.

Maria nearly choked on her newly filled glass of water, still staring straight ahead. With the obvious expression and demeanor of someone who had no choice but to ingeniously forge a suitable opinion for the moment, she settled for answering with a strong nod.

Met with a rather patronizing pat on the back, borderline exasperating as far as she was concerned, Maria glanced at her left side and saw that a spoon had been extended to her: it contained the eyeball of a chicken. Had she been in a terrible mood, Maria would have swatted the spoon away and demanded respect, but the present company was due to outwit and render her speechless if given half the chance. As such, she settled for a tight-lipped smile, – once more met with mirth – changing the subject for trivial matters and little familiar silences that felt that were very comfortable after a tenuous week.

The rest of the evening was spent in a fairly pleasant atmosphere and, for Maria, time was merciless, ending her first night in the company of close family far too quickly. Nevertheless, the conversation at dinner gave her a fairly substantial amount of information to consider. Throughout the following week, she weighted her possibilities in acting on her father’s best interests, coming to the simple conclusion that these were also more than beneficial for her bank account. As September grew nearer, the costumers at Flourish & Blotts started decreasing in number, and soon the store was almost back to its usual energetic shopping pace – without the regular unnerving situations. This gave Maria more time to think about her application and she did so in secret from her employer, often finding herself wishing a new career.

Meanwhile, Maria’s mind was not only occupied with the prospects of her future, but also plagued with the riddle of the piece of parchment she had found hidden in Slughorn’s books. After many fruitless attempts, the strange letterings remained un-deciphered. As each day went by, she strongly believed that her best option was to slither into Knockturn-Alley in search of something that could help her. However, between obsessing over the parchment, the application for the Ministry and her current work, Maria was left with little time for field trips and even less patience for anything else, let alone soirées at the Grengrass’s. She attended her friend’s meeting with poor spirits and had to refrain more than once from snapping at their idle gossip, chastising herself for not having thought of an excuse to evade said meeting. Their “sessions”, as Astoria called them, brought little joy for her at the moment. Maria considered avoiding attending them at all until her life was more stable.

It was only a few days before the ending of the application deadline that Maria owled the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement her résumé. She had been blessed the following Monday morning, after having dinner at her father’s house, with a document containing all the necessary information for said application. No doubt her father had once again predicted she would be deep in work to travel to the Ministry herself and ask for the document. Maria could not begin to commend on her father’s sharp eye, thankful for such a display of care from his part. However, that same morning, a scandalous affair had emerged, being the talk of the wizarding community for weeks. Maria often wondered how stressed her father felt at the moment and tried to write words of encouragement to him whenever she had the chance.

On the day that the four books were to be exposed to public in a grand event, Maria received an unexpected letter.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The update was meant to be on the 28th of October, but it so happens that I will have two complicated two weeks which would probably prevent me from posting on that day (or the following). The chapter is still through Beta, but I will update it to contain the necessary changes as soon as possible. Thank you for reading, we're nearing the climax of Act 1 =)
> 
> Next update: 11th of November.


	4. Act I - Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maria receives an unexpected letter, gives in to shady behavior and runs into trouble.

 

 

 

**Disclaimer: I own nothing except Maria Cooper.**

**Chapter Four: **Whimsical**  
**

_I don't go looking for trouble. Trouble usually finds me._

~J.K. Rowling, _Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban_

* * *

 

 

 

 

It had been roughly one week after she had sent her application and résumé. Flourish & Blotts were making the final preparations for the books release, which did not mean that the most demanding tasks had been fulfilled yet. In fact, Maria had been left in charge of bringing the books from the warehouse when everything was set. That meant that, for the moment, she was to guard the tomes. On top of that, she also had to deal with the archives for the next dozen encyclopedias meant to arrive the next day. Maria felt this was a bothersome task, but one she preferred than to deal with her colleagues and manager at the present time.

Sighing, Maria bit the end of her quill. For the past few days she had tried to find books to help her translate the piece of parchment. Despite all her efforts and late night attempts, the only thing she got was a migraine and little sleep. As the days passed, she was getting more and more discouraged at the prospect of never discovering what the message might be and, so, she decided to bring it with her at all times. If she was fortunate, then eventually something useful would come up.

Said mysterious piece of parchment was safely kept inside her purse. She had placed it in front of her, on the desk she had been sitting on for the last half hour. Lately, Maria stubbornly carried it everywhere. Even in the safety or her own house she experienced an odd feeling of dread that rendered her unusually possessive. She feared it might get lost, or worse, stolen.

Suddenly, the warehouse door opened, revealing a very anxious manager. As Maria didn't fail to notice, his complexion seemed paler in the dimly lit room and the dark rings under his eyes were heavier than last week. A part of her rejoiced at the sight, but it took her some self-restraint not to smirk.

'Miss Cooper, we must bring the tomes at once.' The manager demanded. He glanced over the desk Maria was sitting. 'Everyone has arrived, come along!'

'Of course.' She muttered, shuffling the scattered papers on the desk in a neat pile.

Maria rose from her seat and coolly grabbed her purse. With a fluid movement of her arm, she pointed her wand towards the box, walked over to the door and past the manager. The man seemed oddly anxious, though Maria figured it was probably due to the weight on his shoulders at the moment.

It seemed these were not ordinary books. At the time of their arrival, Maria mistakenly thought the tomes had some connection with the Hogwarts Founders. Recently, through the rest of the staff, she found that they were more than mere marks of ancient times. As far as she knew, Slughorn had told the manager these tomes were written centuries ago by an unknown author, containing tales of goblins, kings and queens in faraway days of Old. In fact, the authenticity of this theory was such that the store had been harassed by reporters for a glimpse ever since it came out public.

To Maria's knowledge, no one had yet questioned how Slughorn managed to obtain such rarities. In fact, if this was a case of theft or smuggling, it seemed low on people's list of priorities. Of course that Maria wouldn't put it past her old Professor to do something illegal for profit, but the man had so many acquaintances that she could hardly be sure. The origin of these tomes could have easily been suppressed or covered up.

As she neared the center of Flourish & Blotts, Maria's trail of thought was interrupted. She suddenly gasped at the number of people who had appeared for the launching.

It was little after lunch but, somehow, some of Diagon-Alley's shop owners and traders had found this important enough to leave someone else in charge of their establishments. It seemed they were eager to see what the fuss was about in detail.

Maria gulped, closing her eyes tight at the sudden flash lights of the Prophet's reporters. From where she was standing, there were at least three envoys she could recognize. It seemed the event had been properly publicized, perhaps a little too much. Her hand flew instinctively to the purse dangling on her side, checking its presence.

The manager went past her and stepped forward into the center of the crowd, next to Horace Slughorn. He impatiently ushered her to place the box in front of him on a small stage, somewhat more composed than before. Crossing his arms, the manager whispered hushed words to his counterpart, a ridiculous smile beneath his mustache. Maria obliged, all the while considering how much those two looked like partners in crime.

'Join the rest of the staff, Miss Cooper.' The manager ordered through gritted teeth, very much anxious. In contrast, Slughorn seemed far too calm, grinning beatifically and waving at the crowd. His eyes were set on the reporters, as Maria noticed. 'Post-haste!'

Repressing the urge to roll her eyes, Maria settled for uttering an inaudible " _Gladly_ ". She quickly marched towards the rest of the staff at her left, evading the crowd of witches and wizards alike from knocking her over in excitement.

A few moments after she had settled between Mrs Wimple and one of the bookcases, Maria leaned against the wooden surface and listened as the room silenced substantially. Slughorn and the manager alike straightened, the former clearing his throat no doubt to voice a well-rehearsed speech. Feeling devious, Maria reflected on the comical manner in which the two men at the front of the event could be visually represented: while one was tall and lean, the other was short and stocky with a large belly. In case someone took notice of that, perhaps they would soon take part of a humorous show.

'My friends, today we announce a most glorious of findings…'

Maria wasn't listening. She was staring straight ahead, fixing a point above Slughorn's bald head. Her thoughts trailed to the mysterious parchment she had found and just what its connection with the books was. Judging by Slughorn's wondrous story, he was definitely leaving out something very important about those books. An unknown author writing the tales of goblins and kings couldn't be worth all the frenzy. Perhaps her own piece of parchment was some sort of ripped off inscription from the book and held no meaning whatsoever –

'Miss Cooper?'

Maria was abruptly distracted from her thoughts. She turned her head to face one of her older colleagues at Flourish & Blotts eyeing her with a frown. He extended his hand, holding a letter whose seal and address she couldn't quite identify from the distance.

'This came for you.' He said, marginally wary for some reason. 'Is everything alright?'

Maria stared at her colleague, narrowing her eyes for a second before turning her gaze to the letter. 'Yes, thank you for the concern.' In a swift movement she snatched the letter from his hand and quickly inspected it. Judging from how creased and wrinkled the letter was, it seemed that it had been delivered for some time now. Maria prepared herself to throw a tongue-lashing remark about holding other people's property hostage, but a closer look at the address made her eyes widen slightly. Hastily dismissing the reproach from the top place in her list of priorities, Maria anxiously opened the letter: it bared the Ministry's seal. There was no denying it. This had to be a reply to her application; why else would the Department of Magical Law Enforcement send her a letter in the middle of the afternoon?

 _Dear Miss Cooper_ , it read.

_You have been selected for an interview for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement's post of Secretary at the Ministry of Magic. The Head of the Department requires your presence today at six o'clock, in his office. Please arrive on time or you will be automatically declared ineligible for further consideration._

_Best regards,_

_Mafalda Hopkirk, Improper Use of Magic Office_

Much too apprehensive to express her feelings, Maria wanted nothing more than to bang her head on the bookcase next to her. This was beyond ill timing! The Department must have been in great need of a proper secretary if they chose to ask for the services of another Office for their feedback. According to her pocket watch, six o'clock was less than two hours away and Maria couldn't just leave the store without giving some explanation. Whether she was chosen or not, she refused to create a situation in which someone could invoke any wrong doing on her behalf.

Maria wanted nothing more than to leave the event and head straight to the Ministry, if only to cease hearing Slughorn's boisterous remarks and the unruly audience's excitement. Despite not having listened what anyone said for the past fifteen minutes or so, that didn't mean the choir of voices hadn't affected Maria's patience. However, she needed to think fast and seize the first opportunity to speak with the manager. The only lacking part was the brilliant excuse to leave much early than anticipated.

Perhaps, she thought, with a good enough excuse she would be able to leave quickly and make a small visit to Borgin & Burkes. With some luck she might just find exactly what she was looking for and be done with this mysterious parchment once and for all.

For the remaining speeches, Maria grew restless. She now had one hour until the interview and still no plausible opportunity that would allow her to interrupt the manager, nor any chance to get close to him. The best moment she could afford was the distraction between the end of the speeches and the questions from the audience, though she couldn't wait that long –

Just when Maria thought she would have to interrupt or ask a colleague to deliver a message, she heard a faint commotion in the background. From where she was standing, Maria saw the short figures of at least three goblins that huddled at the back of the crowd, whispering to each other. The act seemed suspicious to Maria. The hateful gazes the three goblins directed at everyone within their sight were worrying, apart from their pointing around the store. Somehow, it seemed to her as if they were plotting.

Maria caught the eye of the colleague who gave her the letter, and gazed at the spot where the three goblins stood. Her colleague's eyes widened and the man quickly elbowed Mrs Wimple who, for some reason, seemed to consider the ceiling a sight of great interest. Moments later, the staff was stiff and tense, torn between glancing at the goblins and gaining the manager's attention. Maria remembered the conversation she had with her father a few nights before and wondered why the goblins seemed so displeased. Surely Bagman's story had upset their lot, but what was it about this event that put them in such a foul mood?

'We must warn the manager.' said one member of the staff, borderline edgy. 'There could be trouble afoot.' Arms crossed, Maria nodded in agreement. She glanced at the goblins, quickly averting her eyes when she caught one of them staring. There was something about those black, soulless eyes and unbearably long fingers that made her want them far away from her sight.

There was talk of speaking to the manager immediately or waiting for the speech to be over. Maria didn't want to volunteer herself alone for this task. Instead she was silent, observing the enthusiastic reaction of the crowd to Slughorn's explanation of the book. She couldn't help but to frown at the situation, there was something important missing and Maria felt it was connected with the goblin's distress.

Despite a possible catastrophic outcome, Maria had an ordeal of her own to deal with. Growing ever restless, she knew her time was running low and it bothered her that she couldn't just leave. She had concocted a small plan to introduce the subject of her early departure, but required someone to serve as a witness and to testify in case something went wrong in the future. Maria would not have anyone doubt her word in this matter. When she noticed she had less than forty five minutes to reach the Ministry, Maria had halfway decided between leaving without anyone noticing and crossing over to the center of the room, when she heard applause and much excited gossiping.

'It's over.' She told the colleague who gave her the letter, impatiently. 'We need to talk to the manager quickly.'

She was regarded with a quick nod and scurried to the center of the room, the other man trailing behind her. Her remaining colleagues stayed behind to keep an eye on the goblins who were swiftly trying to go through the crowd.

They reached the manager easily, even if a few bystanders managed to elbow them. Maria felt particularly testy at the situation and cleared her throat to gain the manager's attention, but to no avail. The manager was speaking to one of the reporters at the Daily Prophet, while Slughorn seemed to be engaging in frivolous conversation. Both were, as far as Maria knew, unaware of the goblin's nearing presence.

'Goodness, is something wrong?' Asked the manager a few moments later, surprised to see two of his employees bearing such anxious faces. Maria inwardly cringed as she checked her watch and roughly counted thirty five minutes.

'Yes, sir. There is something we must discuss.' Maria said promptly, so she could lead the conversation before anyone else. 'It seems there are three rather suspicious goblins in the store. Do you think it wise to call for security?'

The manager gave her a strange look. Maria couldn't decide if it was only due to concern or if there was something else involved, but figured she could overlook it for higher purposes at this time. She needed to buy herself some time to leave. If some sort of trouble was to come, then she had to be miles away from Flourish & Blotts and that required some persuasion.

'An awkward situation would benefit no one.' She said quickly, cutting the manager before any sound came out of his open mouth. There were, she noticed, a few drops of wine dangling on his mustache, certainly from the large glass he took hostage throughout the event. 'Perhaps keeping an eye on them wouldn't be badly planned, but surely there's no need for an exaggerated reaction.'

'Three goblins you said?' The manager seemed to have paled considerably ever since the beginning of the conversation. The weariness at least was noticeable from the creases on his forehead and the dark rings under his eyes. If anything, in the light of day these only looked more evident. 'We can't afford any concerns this afternoon; I shall deal with the issue myself. Now, if you'll excuse me –'

'Sir!' Maria braced herself for the moment, faking her best distressed performance. Both men stared at her in bewilderment. 'There is something else, a personal matter I must attend. A letter came bearing news of a severe situation within my family, I will need to leave right away to deal with it–'

The manager gaped at Maria. ' _Now_ , you say?' He closed his eyes firmly, gritting his teeth, and uttered an annoyed reply: 'Miss Cooper, what can be so important that requires you to leave your work in the middle of the afternoon, during the most important event of the _year_?'

'Family issues, sir!' She cried, though not so loud as other people within the premises could hear. 'I've even received a letter from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement! Here, look!' She shoved the envelope underneath his nose so the manager could attest to the veracity of her words. It was enough proof and, as for reading the letter itself, Maria was counting on proper etiquette. Knowing the manager, he was well-mannered and would never read other people's correspondence – not in front of them at least, for intelligence's sake.

From the corner of her eye, Maria saw her colleague's mouth forming an 'oh' of comprehension. If she wasn't acting, Maria would've liked nothing more than to give him a good piece of her mind for withholding her correspondence for so long. This nose-poking business gave her no peace of mind at all.

'I apologize, I cannot spare you for the afternoon –' the manager was abruptly cut off by Maria.

'And _I_ apologize sincerely, but this is a matter of great importance. Surely you understand?' Maria doubted he would appreciate her being so vague, but she had been blessed with some luck today. In fact, the manager was far too weary to come up with suitable questions regarding her "severe issues". 'It was most unexpected, but it cannot be delayed.'

'Miss Cooper -'

'I will make up for this inconvenience the rest of the week if need be.' She started speaking fast, trying to be sensible and yet, unyielding. 'But I must simply go. _Now_.' As much as Maria didn't want to admit, the last word was almost a plea, though by the looks of her manager, it was as if she had grown two heads.

' _Miss Cooper!_ ' He bellowed in indignation. Maria averted her attention from the manager and gave her colleague a pleading look. She was met with some sympathy mingled with distress, followed by a patronizing pat on the back. This one, she noticed,was more concerned with the approaching goblins than helping her resolve her issue. Maria felt irritated with the man's unhelpful behavior, especially after withholding her letter.

'There's no excuse for this behavior, Miss Cooper!' The manager looked like he was trying to reign in his temper, gripping the glass of wine tightly. He closed his eyes and took a couple of deep, heavy breaths. 'Should you choose to leave now, you will only receive half of today's wages. No matter how urgent it might be, today's event is even more _important_.' He stressed the last word, sending her a half-weary glare.

Maria looked sharply at the manager, seething. If this wasn't a lie, then the manager's behavior could be considered tactless, in the very least. She tried her best not to glare back and shortened her reply to a _'Thank you'_ through gritted teeth that certainly lacked in politeness. She turned her back on the two men, but noticed her colleague had sent her a reproachful stare. Maria ignored it. She avoided the crowd and hurried to the entrance, all the while mentally cursing the event.

She didn't wait around to see where the goblins were going. Before leaving the bookstore, Maria caught a glimpse of the three creatures still rushing through the crowd, towards the center of the book display, and she quickened her step. When she was finally outside, instead of heading to the Leaky Cauldron, Maria took a sharp turn right towards Knockturn Alley.

Just around the corner from Diagon Alley lied a dark alleyway. Maria had only been to Knockturn Alley once with her father. If she recalled correctly, it had been in her fifth year during Christmas holidays. They had only visited one shop but Maria remembered how careful they had to be not to raise suspicion upon entering the alleyway.

Maria glanced around warily. Most bystanders seemed immersed in their own business and she was fairly sure no one was paying attention to her. However, since Flourish & Blotts was still within her line of sight, Maria chanced one last glance before vanishing into the alleyway.

There was an immediate difference in environment. Whereas Diagon Alley was bright and bubbling with laughter and life, Knockturn Alley was a dark, dodgy place. It was fairly surprising for Maria that the Ministry allowed such a hot-bed of Dark Magic to remain so close to the main mercantile center of Wizarding London. Would it not be better to eliminate or move it and the Dark associated enterprises somewhere else? Perhaps the Ministry reasoned it would be simpler to keep all evil-doers in one place. Certainly they figured it was much easier to keep track of them.

Entering Knockturn Alley was odd. There were a few suspicious looking witches and wizards abound and Maria sometimes felt like everybody was staring at her and pointing, but they really weren't. Some gave her a brief look before continuing on their mysterious destinations, while others presented her with glares and guarded stares.

A particular man caught her attention: one filthy wizard was whispering at the stone wall. He was most likely demented, but made no move towards her despite following her every move with cold, black eyes. The man never ceased his whispering.

Maria was starting to feel nervous and quickened her pace to number 13B. Mostly, the lurkers at Knockturn Alley left her alone. She was starting to regret coming on her own but her options were running short. It wasn't as if she didn't know her way, she simply had to get there unscathed.

At last she reached a wider corridor between buildings. The heels of her shoes clicked on the stone pavement with every step, which echoed in the unnaturally silent alley. There, just a little further, was Borgin & Burkes. Maria recognized both the area around and the sign hanging on top of the door. After checking her watch, Maria gave a quick glance to the shrunken heads displayed on window of a shop just behind her, and quickly stepped on the threshold.

'Is anyone there?' Maria called, closing the door behind her with a 'click'. Even after nearly a decade, the dimly lit shop was almost as she remembered it. When she had come with her father, Maria recalled he had been bargaining with one of the owners over a small statuette of a twisted faced goblin. It was now kept in a permanent exhibition in the living room, along with the other foul beasts her father seemed so fond of.

Maria heard the sound of the wooden floor crackling and a stooping man emerged from the back room, smoothing his greasy hair back from his face. She couldn't remember which of the owners he was, but, still, Maria straightened and walked to the counter, trying not to show any sign of nervousness.

'Good afternoon,' Maria started, noticing the glare the man was directing at her. Despite the obvious tension, she felt rather irritated to be received in such a manner. The amount of dust inside the shop was also an issue, and Maria was careful not to touch anything with her bare skin. She glanced at the assortment of human bones lying on the unclean counter and twitched her nose. 'I am looking for a book that would allow me to translate certain… _unusual_ languages.'

'And what languages might those be?' Snapped the man, obviously impatient. Perhaps he didn't remember her from five years ago. That was a good thing, since Maria's greatest fear was to be recognized when she was risking her reputation. However, she would avoid showing him the piece of parchment so no one could trace it to her.

'The odd and nearly unrecognizable sort,' she explained vaguely, not wanting to delve into the matter further. 'And let's just leave it at that. I have money.' Maria shoved a hand inside her purse and emptied the contents of a small leather pouch on the counter. There at least ten galleons, nearly half of the savings she had put aside from the ingredients she sold at the Apothecary.

Though it was probably not much compared to what most of his clients must spend, the man raised his eyebrows in surprise. He then gave Maria one last doubtful look and proceeded to collect the gold coins on the counter. Before she could say anything, the man disappeared into the back room for a few moments, leaving her alone in the shop. Maria took this opportunity to examine the items on display, still a little befuddled at the recent exchange.

Evil looking masks stared down from the walls and rusty spiked instruments hung down from the ceiling. Unfortunately, these were not the most disturbing objects that Maria could see. She closed her eyes tightly at the sight of a glass eye next to a blood-stained pack of cards and swiftly returned to the counter. The wooden floorboards were crackling on the other side of the door and coming closer. Suddenly, the door opened and the man appeared with an old, small black book covered in dust. He held the book up to his eye level and blew the dust before placing it on the counter.

'What is this?' Maria asked, coughing. Some of the dust from the book had landed on her hair and face. 'I'm in a rush. Is this what I asked for, Mr…?'

'Borgin.' The man grunted. Maria could already feel her eyes watering. 'Take it and leave. This is no place for naïve little –'

There was some shouting in the distance and a loud 'bang'. A few of the spiked instruments on the ceiling started to shake at the impact, and Maria could see a waft of smoke from the dirty shop window, going up in the sky. She was gradually starting to realize that, no matter what had happened, no one could find her in such a dodgy place. Her blood started to run cold as the screams started to get louder.

'Away with you!' Mr Borgin shouted, his eyes widening and face contorted in a feral grimace. Maria quickly tucked the book in her purse, just in time before she felt herself being dragged out of the shop by Mr Borgin. Despite her cries of distress, he pushed her out of the door and Maria fell on the stone pavement, wincing in pain. The sign on the door saying 'Open' turned to 'Closed' and the shop windows were hastily covered with black curtains.

Grimacing at the pain in her leg, Maria checked if her purse was still there and pulled her wand out and forced herself to stand. The few inhabitants of Knockturn Alley were running and locking themselves in their own shops and houses, while others tried to escape to safety. Maria almost got trampled by a decrepit witch who carried a tray of what seemed like human fingernails, but managed to crawl out of the way in time. The was a cloud of smoke coming from Diagon Alley, and she had the terrible feeling that it had something to do with the goblins –

'Watch it!' She whimpered, as a black clad wizard almost tripped on her leg. The man paid no mind to her and continued running. Trembling, Maria held on to the wall and tried to find a dark corner where she could Apparate safely. She needed to get to the Ministry as soon as possible, things were getting out of control –

Another loud 'bang' coming from Diagon Alley and more screaming filled the air. Maria decided there was no time to hide and held on to her wand tightly, concentrating on her destination. This was easier said than done, the shouting came from everywhere, and there was panic in the streets. The smoke was making her dizzy. Before another distraction could happen, Maria kept clutching her wand tightly and forced to think about the great entrance halls of the Ministry.

Then the world went black and Maria felt she was falling. The world was rushing past her and she had little time to consider what was happening. The only thought that solidified in her head as she clenched her jaw was that, thus far, this was the worst Apparition she had ever experienced.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed the new chapter =) More trouble is coming next, stay tuned! Critique is always appreciated.
> 
> Next update: 9th of December


	5. Act I - Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maria gets interviewed for her new job in a strange fashion and shares secrets.

**Chapter Five: Choices**

_The consequences of our actions are so complicated, so diverse, that predicting the future is a very difficult business indeed._

          J. K. Rowling, _Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban_

* * *

 

Falling was the best way to describe it.

Maria was falling up, lightness, darkness and everything in between flashed before her eyes. The familiar compressing sensation felt almost unbearable, as did the pain in her fingernails. For the briefest of seconds, she could swear that she had seen something green, looking very much like freshly mowed grass, and the bleat of sheep coming closer –

With a squelch, Maria tumbled into the cold stone pavement and promptly shed a few tears, still clutching at her purse.

Heaving and spluttering, her fingers sought out her wand and she squeezed it for comfort as she propped herself onto her knees, panting.

‘Goodness, are you alright?’

There were loud voices coming from everywhere; she could hear the commotion in the distance. None of these voices were familiar, as far as Maria could recognize without opening her eyes. Unknown, gentle hands were touching her head and pulling her from the ground. There were some whispers about possible head trauma and injuries coming from behind her.

‘I’m fine,’ she mumbled, trying to open her eyes. The white lights from above were nearly blinding, and, grimacing, Maria forced herself into a sitting position. There were people around her, still blurry, but she could make out a wiry figure with a greyish mane handing her a handkerchief.

Out of instinct, Maria clutched her purse again, immediately regretting this course of action. Her index finger was hurting, and she spotted a trail of blood trickling down from the place where her fingernail was supposed to be.

‘Where am I?’ Maria asked faintly, accepting the handkerchief. While she wrapped it around her injured finger, a pair of strong hands held her shoulders firmly. ‘Is this the Ministry?’

There was a strong, mixed scent of Firewhisky and Tobacco Pipe coming from behind her. Maria frowned, turning her gaze on the crowd of witches and wizards surrounding her in a circle. She gradually started to feel her cheeks getting warmer.

The wiry, grey haired man was kneeling in front of her, wearing a grave look. Maria wondered why he looked so familiar.

‘Indeed you are, Miss,’ he nodded, after inspecting her attire. ‘Did you by any chance Apparate from Diagon Alley?’

The tone was stern, though not unkind. Still, Maria felt her heart sink.

‘I -’

However, the man must’ve sensed her hesitation and didn’t let her finish. He stared into her eyes, searching for something. ‘Did you or did you not Apparate from Diagon Alley?’ 

Before Maria could answer, another man, the one holding her shoulders, cut her off.

‘I don’t think this young lady is in a proper condition to be interrogated right now, Dawlish,’ he rebuked, with a hint of trepidation in his tone. ‘She ought to see a healer first.’

The man, Dawlish, frowned. His eyes fell on Maria’s injured hand and then on her dirty dress before he nodded. Understanding seemed to dawn on the man, something which she was grateful for.

‘What’s your name, Miss?’ asked the man behind her in a gentle tone. Maria caught a moan of distress before it left her throat.

‘My name is none of your concern.’ she grumbled, still feeling a little lightheaded. Someone offered her a hand as she tried to stand, but she dismissed it with a poorly aimed slap. ‘I am, however, late for an interview at the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, so would you kindly let me go about my business?’

Her words were followed by a brief silence from the two men, despite the turmoil around. Maria felt her shoulders being squeezed. She tensed at the touch, knowing that there was a possibility they would insist on bringing her along after this outburst.

In spite of still feeling a little faint, Maria tried to analyze her situation. There was a small crowd made of Ministry workers circling them and, if she squinted, Maria recognized a few faces. Unfortunately, she couldn’t place names and had no known acquaintances amongst the crowd. Any plan of using someone’s influence on her behalf was out of the question, for the moment. Resorting to use her father’s authority here could also turn out terribly wrong.

‘Please,’ she asked between clenched teeth. It hurt her pride having to plead her cause. ‘I can’t miss this interview and it’s certainly past six o’clock -’

‘A quarter past, actually.’ the man behind her said helpfully. Maria turned up her nose at the strong scent lingering in her nostrils, but didn’t turn her head to glance at the man. Instead, she stared at the ground and inhaled slowly, still trying to recover from the Apparition. ‘Now, Miss, there’s been a terrible accident at Diagon Alley. We will escort you to our Head, but we’ll need you to answer a few questions on the way.’

Maria lifted her head immediately. ‘ _Your_ Head?’ she repeated faintly. ‘Whoare you?’

‘A fine question,’ Dawlish answered, still eyeing her with mistrust. ‘One that we posed you not very long ago.’

‘I -’ Maria glanced at the crowd. They didn’t seem to be following the conversation yet, but the longer she remained there, the more suspicious she would look. She was slipping on her words, and those two men knew it –

 And then she remembered. The man, Dawlish, was in fact called John Dawlish, a once highly regarded Auror. Maria gulped. She should’ve remembered him immediately. It wouldn’t do at all having someone with that much influence mistrusting her from the start. Her situation was already delicate, adding further conflict would only lower her chances of employment.

‘I’m sorry,’ she bowed her head as if in shame, forcing herself not to show how hurt her pride was. ‘My name is Maria Cooper, and you were correct to assume I Apparate from within Diagon Alley. I apologize for whatever inconvenience I might’ve caused, I’m afraid I’m still coming to terms with what happened there…’

Maria risked a glance at Dawlish. The man’s expression had softened, though he was still observing her with caution.

‘We must make haste, Dawlish,’ the other man insisted, still squeezing her shoulders to keep her upright. Maria had half a mind to tell him how unwanted his help was, but refrained from saying anything.

‘ _We_ need more insight on this emergency.’ Dawlish growled. ‘Tell us, Miss Cooper, what exactly happened in Diagon Alley?’

Maria looked into his eyes defiantly. ‘I don’t know exactly,’ she said, thinking fast. ‘All I could see was a cloud of smoke and people running for their lives.’

‘What about explosions? And goblins? Did you _see_ anything out of the ordinary?’ Dawlish pressed. He had taken one large step towards Maria, and was now standing so close she could see the yellow on his teeth.

Maria’s eyes widened. _Goblins_? ‘I don’t -’

‘That’s enough, Dawlish.’ The other man snarled, gripping her shoulders tighter. ‘We have detained this young woman for far too long without any cause. She has Splinched and needs to see a healer quickly. I’ll take her to our Head and make sure she gets to St Mungos’s safely after her interview; gather Potter, Weasley, Savage and Williamson. We leave for Diagon Alley in ten minutes.’

Maria was taken aback by the venomous glare Dawlish sent in her way, but had little time to examine it. As soon as she felt the pressure on her shoulders disappear, she felt herself being dragged through the puzzled crowd towards the service lifts. The other man, another Auror for sure, was holding her left arm as if she was a ragdoll.

‘Shouldn’t we get the visitor’s card, first?’ Maria panted, glancing everywhere to make sure no acquaintance of hers was present in the Ministry Hall. There were so many people using the service lifts that she could never be sure.

‘Consider it a onetime exception,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry for this mess, Miss Cooper. I’ll make sure you are properly taken care of once you reach the Department.’ The man pressed the lift button before glancing at her with undisguised curiosity. Now that Maria could see him properly, she noticed the man had few distinguishable features aside from a thick mane.

‘Say,’ he started, squeezing them both between the back lift wall and one particularly overweight wizard eating a box of chocolates. ‘You wouldn’t happen to know Mister Cooper from the Goblin Liaison Department? If you don’t mind the question, that is.’

Maria glared at the overweight wizard, who decided it would be a good idea to openly scratch his backside. ‘He’s my father, in fact.’ Maria said in a clipped voice. ‘But that’s hardly a matter of importance at the moment, is it?’

The man opened his mouth to reply, but said nothing as the lift halted. Instead, he reached for her arm and once again dragged her through the corridors until they reached a wooden door on the left side, near the end.

Maria sighed heavily. She was nervous and, even worse, she was late. That was a combination that seldom had good results. She felt a pat on her back and glanced at the friendly Auror who promptly gave her a wink. Before she could do more than smile in return, he opened the door to an office in complete disarray.

‘What happened here?’ Maria’s eyes widened. There were piles of newspapers scattered on the floor, and on the vacant desk she assumed the former secretary used to sit. A few Interdepartmental Memos flew over her head and entered an unclosed door.

‘Bureaucracy, that’s what happened,’ the man took a large step to avoid the stacks of documents on the floor. ‘Derwent’s not getting any younger and he needs a neat person who can take care of the hundreds of requests that arrive every day. Think you’re up for it?’

‘I’m counting on it,’ she replied, a little bothered that this unknown man was doubting her. ‘Should I…?’ she pointed at the door.

He shook his head. ‘Stay here, I’ll explain the situation.’ With one last glance, the man quickly entered the other room.

‘Thank you.’ Maria picked a spot next to the desk and inspected it. She heard the door close and muffled sounds coming from inside. It seemed that the two men were arguing about her, and the name ‘Diagon Alley’ came up a few times in higher tones. Maria instantly tensed, feeling nervous.

She glanced quickly at the door before resuming her inspection of the unoccupied desk. There were a number of old newspapers in the mess, as well as books, some of their pages yellow and falling apart. Maria frowned, bothered at the carelessness. These books were meant to be kept in a closed space so they wouldn’t turn to dust, and not left in such poor conditions.

Giving the door another glance, Maria started to go through the scattered mess. She had some hope of finding interesting information that, perhaps, had been misplaced –

Suddenly, she heard the door open and the Auror appeared on the doorstep. It was fortunate that Maria had been fast enough to stop her look-over, though she still received an odd look from the man. It dawned on her that she still hadn’t asked for his name, but she had more important things to care about at the moment.

‘Is everything alright?’ the man asked, slightly wary. Maria nearly slapped herself for being indiscreet.

‘I- yes.’ She nodded swiftly, giving the man a smile. ‘Nearly tripped on this mess, but I’m quite alright.’

The man frowned, but showed no sign of wanting to pursue the matter further. Instead, he opened the door and gestured with his head for Maria to go in the office. She hopped, pulling the skirt of her dress up, careful not to tumble. ‘Best of lucks, Miss Cooper,’ he said, patting her on the shoulder. ‘I do hope to see you behind that desk in a fortnight.’

For a moment, Maria considered shaking the man’s hand but decided to answer with a small smile. The man continued to frown, but gave her a brief nod before closing the door behind her.

The first thing Maria noticed was the old man sitting behind a neat desk, very much unlike the one before. He was entirely clad in blue, and the fabric of his robes seemed far too warm to wear in the current season. Whatever the reason, he was looking sternly at her behind a pair of round glasses.

‘Good afternoon.’ Maria gave a short curtsy, feeling embarrassed at being scrutinized so blatantly.

‘You must be Cooper’s daughter,’ he said gruffly, not bothering with pleasantries. His oddly rough voice hinted that he must’ve been a heavy smoker during his younger years. ‘I specifically ordered Miss Hopkirk to stress how important it was to be on _time_. And yet, you failed to comply with simple instructions.’

Maria blinked, a little confused at the exchange. ‘I was delayed –’

The old man waved at her dismissively. ‘Proudfoot has already pleaded your cause rather passionately. I assure you, were it not for him, this interview would not be taking place.  Now _sit_.’

He gestured at the wooden chair in front of his desk with a bony hand. Maria clenched her teeth, but nonetheless sat, very straight, without a word. The chair felt so uncomfortable that she assumed it had been placed here with the sole purpose of giving people a hard time.

It was only the beginning of the interview and it already started to go downhill. Maria couldn’t help but to feel thankful to the Auror, Proudfoot, but if they had let her be it was likely that none of this unpleasant business would have taken place. It took her all her self control not to grimace at the old man’s unfriendly attitude, lest he threw her out.

A part of Maria was bent on blaming her father for talking her into this. He must’ve been out of his mind when he suggested that this could be a good opportunity. At least he forgot to mention the Head of the Department was an overbearing vulture.

‘I received word from your father that you have some experience from working in Flourish & Blotts, is that correct?’ he held up a letter with one hand and a magnifying glass with the other.

‘I’ve worked there for three years, yes.’ Maria glanced at the old man up close, noticing how his bald head shone under the light, and his shoulder length white beard. ‘I was responsible for the book deliveries and their sorting, mostly.’

‘Mostly?’ this seemed to interest the old man. ‘Did you have any other specific functions?’

Maria sat straighter. ‘Yes, Mr – …er, sir. Sometimes I was asked to fill in and sign delivery forms when the manager was away.’

The old man snorted, considering her with a glint in his eyes. ‘The name’s Ignatius Derwent, in case you didn’t know,’ he crossed his arms and leaned back on his chair. The letter he had been reading not so long ago was laying forgotten on top of the desk, but with a quick glance Maria recognized her father’s writing.

‘Thank you, Mr Derwent.’

The man ignored her, stroking his beard with a long bony finger. ‘Am I right to assume you have some experience in the executive field? Bureaucracy, desk jobs and such?’

Maria nodded.

‘As much as you can expect from a lowly employee working in a bookstore.’

‘It’ll do.’ Still leaning against his chair, the old man looked at Maria intently. ‘How would you sort out that mess outside?’ he demanded. ‘What would be your course of action?’

Maria raised her eyebrows in surprise. What was the old man’s plan?

‘I would stack every type of document in a different pile and then go through them,’ she clarified, being as objective as possible. ‘Sort out the trash from the necessary files, and then I would keep the books in a safe place where they wouldn’t _crumble_ with age.’

She added the last part with a bit of a vicious satisfaction. Perhaps it was the fact that she had spent the last few years of her life dealing with books, but such carelessness really bothered her.

If not satisfied, the old man seemed at least amused by her answer. Maria felt more puzzled as the interview went on; first she was received in a rude fashion by this man and now he was following a very unusual path by asking these questions. It was all very unseemly.

‘Well,’ he clasped his hands together, piercing Maria with a strange stare. ‘You have half an hour to sort out the mess outside. Do it, and you’re hired.’ it was almost as if he was expecting her to fail.

Maria blinked. She never would’ve thought that creating a royal mess and having someone sort it could be used as proof of one’s proficiency. Furthermore, that must’ve been the main reason why no one had been considered fit for the place. The man was clearly out of his mind!

‘What are you waiting for, girl?’ the old man taunted. ‘Remember that the clock’s ticking!’

‘I- of course.’ Maria mumbled, hurriedly getting out of the chair. She gave the old man one last glance before opening the door to the other room, wondering just how she was getting out of this predicament.

 

oooOOOooo

Daphne stared at her incredulously.

‘Old Derwent’s turned into a loony.’ she took a sip of her Butterbear and then pointed a finger at Maria. ‘And you were very lucky not to get caught in the bookstore with the goblins at the time of the accident. I’m still wondering how you managed to convince the manager to let you leave during the event.’

Maria looked up from her tea, smirking at her friend. She was certain no one of importance was currently spying on them in the Leaky Cauldron, and they were very much hidden in one of the corner tables. ‘I used the “family issues” card, of course. Awkward and dubious, just to erase suspicion.’

‘And the manager let you leave without fussing?’ Daphne raised one thin eyebrow. ‘From what I heard about him, it seems unlikely.’

Maria sighed, resting her head in her right hand. ‘He didn’t exactly let me leave,’ she explained, a little bothered about the subject. ‘He threatened to cut part of my paycheck for the day.’

‘How insensitive of him.’ Daphne scoffed. ‘I fear to imagine your reaction if your excuse had been a real one.’

‘It doesn’t matter anymore,’ Maria waved her hand dismissively. ‘Flourish & Blotts is closed for the time being due to the goblin attack, and I’m not planning to return there for the time being. I have bigger concerns at the moment.’

She did, in fact. Maria still hadn’t opened the black book she had bought at Borgin & Burkes, fearing it could contain some kind of curse. Mr Borgin certainly made no mention of doing so when she bought it that day, despite the commotion the goblins caused. It made her wonder if there was something wrong with it, or if she was simply being paranoid. One could never be too careful though, and Maria supposed it would be a very unpleasant experience to speak in rhyme for the rest of her life (1).

 ‘I see.’ Daphne put down her Butterbear. ‘I assume you proved your worth to Derwent?’

Maria nodded, incapable of restraining a new smirk. ‘I was brilliant, Daphne. Three years of working in a bookstore finally paid off.’ she gloated, beaming in triumph. ‘The old man didn’t say so, but I know he was impressed.’

Maria couldn’t wipe the smirk off her face, happy as she was of her recent achievements. She raised her cup of tea and Daphne her mug, toasting at Maria’s success.

‘May your road be successful and never short of raises.’ Daphne cheered, starting to get a little rosy on the cheeks. She was loud enough that a few costumers looked in their way for a moment. In a normal situation, Maria would’ve scolded Daphne for her outburst, but right now found she couldn’t care less. ‘I’m proud of you Maria.’

‘Thank you.’ Maria smiled vainly in return. ‘I might just present myself with a pet before Christmas, if everything runs smoothly. Either way, I still need to take care of a few problems before making plans for the future.’

Daphne stared at her shrewdly. ‘And what problems might those be?’

Maria bowed her head and looked at the tea in her cup, thinking whether she should tell Daphne about the parchment. A part of her didn’t want anyone else to know about it. It was hers; she had found it, taken the parchment from Slughorn’s slimy hands and from under the manager’s nose. There was little chance that Daphne would mention this to someone else, but the thought of parting from the parchment without knowing what it meant bothered Maria.

On the other hand, she was getting desperate. No matter how many books she studied, there was nothing that could be considered even remotely useful. Perhaps it wasn’t a bad idea to bring Daphne into the secret, but Maria had to make sure they were together in this.

Raising her head, Maria gave Daphne a calculating look. ‘Let’s start by saying I’ve been carrying a secret for a while.’

Daphne seemed very interested at this turn of events. She leaned forward, mug still in hand, and whispered. ‘That so?’

‘Yes.’ Maria nodded, her eyes never leaving Daphne’s. ‘It’s a bit of an awkward business, to be honest. If you want me to tell you, I need your word that this conversation will _never_ leave this table.’

Maria looked down at her hand, feeling Daphne holding it in a reassuring gesture. When she looked up, Maria was surprised to see how serious her friend was.

‘I promise.’ She assured her. When Maria hesitated, she added: ‘I swear on my life that your secret stays safe between us both.’

‘You swear?’ Maria repeated faintly.

‘I do.’ Daphne answered firmly.

Maria considered her for a moment. With Daphne’s help, maybe she would be able to decode the parchment and this headache would finally be over, once and for all. She glanced at her purse sitting on the table, against the wall, and made her decision.

‘Daphne,’ she started in a whisper, unsure of how to begin her story. ‘Do you remember the books Slughorn brought for the event?’ At her friend’s nod, Maria continued. ‘The night he brought them to Flourish & Blotts, I was assigned to receive them. I was curious about the whole secrecy around those books, so, when Slughorn left, I brought them to the warehouse and… opened their box.’

Daphne’s eyes narrowed. ‘Were there no curses or charms protecting the books?’

‘I was just as surprised as you are.’ Maria admitted in a hushed tone. ‘If they were truly such rarities, then why would Slughorn reframe from casting a few protective spells? But no, there were no charms or curses. Just a box and four books. That’s when I opened them and found this –’

Casting the other clients a suspicious glance, Maria quickly opened her purse and showed Daphne the parchment. It was slightly more crumpled than before, but other than that it was fine.

While Maria was overjoyed at the sight of the parchment, Daphne, on the other hand, seemed wary of it. Before she could hold it, Maria shoved it inside her purse again, not wanting anyone else to touch it.

‘What it that? What does it _say_?’ Daphne asked, sounding very interested.

‘I don’t know, but I have a feeling about it.’ Maria whispered, barely containing her enthusiasm. ‘I feel it might be something of importance, but that’s part of the issue, since I can’t find what those letterings mean.’

She sighed, feeling overwhelmed.

‘The day I went to the Ministry for the interview, I made a short stop on Knockturn Alley and paid Borgin & Burkes a visit.’ Leaning forward, Maria continued: ‘Borgin sold me a little black book, but I daren’t open it. Not yet, at least.’

Daphne frowned, puzzled. ‘Why wouldn’t you open it?’

‘Because, my dear sweet Daphne, what if the book has some sort of curse that only activates when someone tries to read it? Borgin never opened it within my sight, and before I could even think of such a problem, the goblins almost blew up Florish & Blotts. I had to get out of there before someone saw me.’

‘I see your problem.’ Daphne scratched her chin, thinking hard. ‘In order for this to work, we need to test it on someone else.’ she leaned forward, so that she could whisper in Maria’s ear. ‘Someone no one would connect to us in case the book was indeed cursed.’

Slowly, Maria lifted her eyebrows. ‘A Muggle.’ She whispered.

'Yes.' Daphne nodded, returning to her original position. ‘But why is this so important to you? It hardly seems a worthwhile task, and it could cost you more than your job.’

Stiffening her back, Maria glowered. ‘It won’t.’ This earned her a quizzical look from Daphne, and she repeated her words more vehemently. ‘I assure you, it _won’t_.’

There was a pause.

‘I see.’

Daphne stared at Maria for a few seconds, absently tapping her fingers on the hard wood. Maria clenched her jaw, realizing she might’ve made a mistake after all.

‘And, pray tell.’ Maria said, through gritted teeth. There was a calculating glint in Daphne’s eyes that she hadn’t been able to conceal, and this made Maria’s blood curl. ‘What exactly do you _see_?’

‘I'm…curious to know what those letterings might mean; I've taken Ancient Runes and never saw anything of the like.’ Daphne squeezed her hand and stared into her eyes, suddenly very serious. ‘But you still haven’t answered my question: why is this so important to you?’

Maria glanced at their hands before looking up into Daphne’s eyes with determination. ‘Because I _want_ to know.’

Daphne seemed at loss for words, but there it was, that shrewd flash behind her eyes that Maria had known for many years. It seemed she had dropped the subject for the time being. With one sigh, she continued:

‘Maria,' Daphne paused, as if to gather her trail of thought. 'If we are to do something, then we cannot get caught. Subjecting Muggles to such experiments could buy us a one-way ticket to Azkaban.'

'Yes, yes, of course.' They needed a plan, and it had to be done quickly. With her new job starting next week, she would have little time to pursue other extensive interests. 'Do you have ideas?'

Daphne paused for a second. 'I'll meet you tonight at your place. I might have something in mind, but we'll need to discuss it further and this is not the ideal spot.'

Maria noticed how their hands were still intertwined and squeezed Daphne's for comfort. Despite her growing mistrust, a part of her felt exhilarated. Maria was so amazed at the prospect of decoding the parchment that she paid no heed to it.

‘You will help then?’ She insisted, needing to sate her doubts. ‘Under secrecy? You give me your word?’

‘Of course, Maria.’

For some reason, Maria couldn’t help but to feel that there was something off about those words.

 

 

 

oooOOOooo

(1)   Canon HP event: after opening an enchanted book, a wizard spent the rest of his life speaking in rhyme.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the delay, hopefully this chapter will make up for it! Unfortunately, I won’t be able to update until the end of January, my finals are coming and I need to study. On the other hand, we just have one chapter and a half left until the end of Act I, and then off we go to Middle Earth! Thorin’s arch is very close, so stay tuned!
> 
> Thank you for the wonderful reviews, favorites and follows! I haven’t been able to make the necessary edits to the previous chapters just yet, but hopefully I’ll be able to during the weekend. 
> 
> Constructive criticism is always appreciated! Hugs*
> 
> Question: what was your favorite moment in the Desolation of Smaug/Hobbit (movie)/Hobbit (book)?


	6. Act I - Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which everyone has a hidden agenda.

**Chapter Six: A Favor for a Favor**

_You sort of start thinking anything's possible if you've got enough nerve._

 

J. K. Rowling, _Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix_

 

* * *

 

Maria began pacing again, hands behind her back, glancing at the grandfather clock in the entrance hall. The wooden floorboards creaked and squeaked under her feet. The constant ticking had been driving her crazy for the last hour but, given her nerves, this was unavoidable.

She stopped all of a sudden, peering through the front window. There was no one outside or any sign of Daphne. Maria clenched her fists in frustration, starting to regret her decision. She reasoned it would've been at least polite to send an owl explaining the delay, unless there was something else at work here. If so, Maria would be in an awful lot of trouble.

She stiffened when a blast of wind shook the boards and cursed the house for falling apart. Her hand immediately reached inside one of her pockets, almost sighing in relief that the parchment was still there. Her fingers carelessly played with its dry edges while she took a quick look at the hall, eyes narrowed at the aged walls and blemished curtains. It wouldn't surprise her if the she came home one day and the door was hanging off the hinges. At least the old gas lamps worked; Maria refused to pay for electricity.

'Bother it all.' Maria grumbled, glaring at the door as if it was the cause of her problems.

It took her a minute to collect herself when the clock struck midnight. She had been examining a group of old and grimy photographs at the time, her brow furrowed at the unmoving people who stared back solemnly. Maria held on to the edges of the small table until her knuckles turned white, resisting the urge to clean the specks of dust.

Eventually, maybe the following weekend, she would take a little of her time and shove a few useless trinkets in the basement for her amusement.

Taking a sharp breath, Maria closed her eyes tightly, all the while cursing the Greengrass family and their wretched daughter. She had no guarantee that the other girl would show up as promised. In fact, Maria had doubts whether Daphne had kept her mouth shut these past hours, or if she had decided to use the information for her own profit. She had been a fool in trusting others and, in her carelessness, forgotten to take safety measures. Now she would have to find something equally serious to hold over Daphne, because the alternative would be to make her forget their conversation, and Maria wasn't sure she could perform a strong enough memory charm –

The sound of a knock on her front door made Maria jump in shock. She breathed heavily, still surprised, and glanced around at first, placing a hand over her chest as if she could control her breathing with her palm. A few of the photographs had landed on the table with a 'thump', releasing a puff of smoke that caused Maria to cough and her eyes to water.

Sniffing, she gave the photographs one last disdainful glance and stalked to the door. The knocking had by then turned rather insistent, but Maria deliberately waited before turning the knob. She stiffened, head held high, a scowl on her face.

'You're late,' she snarled, giving Daphne a once over. Her eyes immediately narrowed at the sight of a leather pouch that looked far too worn-out to be a simple accessory.

When Daphne made a movement to enter, Maria crossed her arms and stood in the doorway, blocking the entrance. The other witch's face darkened and she frowned, raising her wand, something that Maria mirrored.

'What kept you?' She demanded, eyes darting between Daphne's wand and ill-concealed frown.

'I wasn't aware we had agreed on a time to meet.' Daphne replied with care, lowering her wand slightly. 'Besides, I think I have something that'll make up for that slight.'

Maria snorted, searching the other witch's face for any sign of deception. She knew that Daphne was being evasive, and was hesitant to let her through without proper interrogation. Furthermore, she was even more uncertain about Daphne's own agenda. Both had the sense of keeping their wands at the ready, even if it meant further disagreement. She then glanced again at the leather pouch, noticing how Daphne seemed to favour her left side.

Maria considered the situation. Her blood boiled as her thoughts turned to a sneaking suspicion that included theft and betrayal.

'I suppose that pouch is part of the surprise,' she spat, nodding her head at Daphne's waist. Daphne glanced at the pouch, eyebrows raised.

'Oh, this?' Daphne patted her side with her free hand. 'Yes – yes, indeed. Now let me through? I promise it'll be worth your while.'

Maria felt her resolve falter as a sense of jittery anticipation filled her body, and she found herself unable to turn away from this opportunity. Her hand absently reached for the parchment in her pocket, checking if it was still there. Perhaps she could indulge herself a few minutes of hope, – never trust, she wouldn't make that mistake again - in leading Daphne astray in order to gain some leverage?

Moments later, Maria lowered her wand and gave two steps back, leaning on the doorframe. Her jaw muscles worked as if she was chewing.

'It's still late.' She rebuffed, crossing her arms again. Daphne eyed her with some suspicion, lingering on the threshold for a minute before stowing her wand beneath her cloak. Maria stared after her as she entered unceremoniously, closing the door with a loud 'thump'. A few of the portraits hanging from the walls trembled with the impact.

Daphne stopped in the middle of the entrance hall, eyeing it critically. 'I've never been to your house before.' She said, in a strained voice. Her gaze fell on the group of old photographs sitting on the nearby table.

Maria bit her lip to hold back a loaded retort. She glanced at one of the once white walls, now yellowish from old age, and then at the stained curtains. Blushing from shame, she suddenly thought that the house was unsuitable for guests. In fact, it looked almost like an abandoned museum of sorts. Not for the first time, she wished that she had stripped clean most of the hall and sold the furnishings a while ago -

Maria stopped dead on her tracks, pausing in mid contemplation; Daphne was holding one of the photographs Maria had considered storing away. She inspected it with a frown, looking strangely lost in her thoughts.

'Your grandparents were Muggles.' Daphne murmured more to herself than to Maria. She was holding the frame at arm's length above her head to catch a better light. From where she was standing, Maria could make out two thin individuals dressed in black garments.

Maria stiffened, a rosy scarlet colour spreading over her pale cheeks. She grasped her wand tightly, staring defiantly at the back of Daphne's head and cursed the other witch under her breath. She managed to pull herself together before she stalked across the room and snatched the frame from Daphne's hands, catching a glimpse of the solemn elderly couple's photograph. She couldn't hide her grimace, though her heart clenched; somehow Maria felt as if they were reproaching her.

She was rewarded with a scowl. 'I take it you weren't in their good graces?' Daphne sniffed.

'Can't even remember them,' Maria replied firmly, placing the frame face down on the table. She waved her wand and the remaining photographs followed. Through the corner of her eye, she saw Daphne cleaning off the remnants of dust in her hand on the hem of her dress.

'That's… unfortunate.'

Maria shrugged. There was no real pity in Daphne's words.

'Come along then.' She said after a moment of strained silence, motioning for Daphne to follow. She headed towards the living room, cringing inwardly at how the floor creaked at their every step. Maria was aware that Daphne was trailing closely behind, albeit with lighter footsteps.

Maria gave her wand a wave and a dozen candles lit up, revealing a large blue carpet in the centre of the living room, a short tea table and at least three pillows. There was an armchair next to the fireplace on the far end, but it had been pushed against the wall like the dinner table and the remaining furniture. In the corner was an overly large wooden bookshelf that both girls dismissed.

'I think you're going to like this,' said Daphne, sitting on one of the pillows around the tea table. Maria noticed that there was some urgency in her voice, but there was also an unmistakable smugness; be it from the way the corner of Daphne's lips twisted upwards or the self-satisfied twinkle that her eyes couldn't mask. Maria's eyes widened as the other witch reach inside her pouch and took out two vials of a thick, dark mud like substance that bubbled slowly, she could almost hear the grotesque sound of the bubbles slowly popping.

'Polyjuice Potion,' she breathed, taking one of the vials. A feeling of exhilaration pushed away all ill thoughts against Daphne for the moment. The vial felt cold in her hands despite the bubbling; she didn't need to get too close to smell the foul thing, as its scent seemed to fill her nostrils as soon as she took out the top.

'I think this makes up for being _late_ , as you put it.' Daphne shot back, a little too happy with herself.

Maria gave her a pointed look and closed the vial, coughing and grimacing. She placed it on the table again. 'Where did you get this?' She asked, brow furrowed, still coughing. 'You're not very good at making potions, so I'm guessing you had to do some under the table business.'

'Or maybe I borrowed it.' Daphne reached for her pouch again and placed a metal box on the table. It certainly couldn't fit within the pouch without being charmed; it was much larger and heavier than that tiny thing. 'Just like you did with your secret parchment.'

Maria snorted. 'Unwillingly borrowed, then?'

Daphne smirked but did not elaborate. She tapped the lid with the tip of her wand and it opened with a 'click': inside were a few dry eyelids and human fingernails. There was a single lock of dark hair tied with a string at the far end. Maria leaned forward to look into the box, noticing that these must've been at least decades old, given their yellowish pigmentation. The smell, she thought with a scowl, was even worse than the potion's.

Maria raised her eyebrows, puzzled.

'What's your plan?' She demanded, holding up the lock of hair. It certainly didn't belong to a Caucasian individual; it was too curly and thick. Not to mention how there was a certain slickness to it, probably due to some long ago used hair oil.

'I know the perfect place to test that book of yours' Daphne said, eyes twinkling in amusement as she watched Maria's attempts to clean her fingers. 'But we need to make sure no one recognizes us. In case something goes wrong, you see. You didn't exactly play it safe the last time you entered Knockturn Alley, and I doubt either of us could produce a strong enough memory charm-'

Maria waggled her index finger knowingly. 'Even if we did, someone could still lift it.'

Daphne nodded. 'Exactly. I figured the best plan would be to turn both of us into someone else, because unless we get caught there's no chance of being recognized.'

Maria grimaced. 'That's all well and good, but whose hair and…' she held up one yellow fingernail. 'Lost bits are these? I refuse to drink anything that isn't remotely human. Brilliant plan, though.'

'These are all human, silly.' Daphne sighed. 'I know that hair lock belonged to a Muggle in his mid forties and that a few of _those_ ' she pointed to the eyelids and fingernails. 'Belonged to Jewish women in the late 19th Century.'

Maria paused, the implications of Daphne's words still taking shape in her head.

'Well,' she gulped, glancing at the dry eyelashes in the box. 'I'm not willing to take chances, but this seems a tad…excessive. Can't say I fancy the idea of turning into middle aged Muggle out of the blue, though. It's not just the whole anatomical difference that's bugging me -'

'What wrong, then?' Daphne asked impatiently, tapping her fingers on the table.

'Just where _is_ this man, anyway? How do you know all this?'

Without warning, Daphne waved her wand and the lid closed with a loud 'thump', hurting Maria's little finger in the process. She immediately withdrew her hand, flabbergasted, dimly aware of the pain.

'That's my own business,' she said, arms crossed, sending Maria's finger sucking a nasty glare. 'You don't need to worry about the man; he's been absent for quite a while. And the body was never found, if it eases your conscience.'

Maria's jaw dropped.

' _Absent_ for how long?' Maria gasped, eyes widening. 'No, don't answer that,' she added quickly when Daphne started to scowl again. 'Look, just promise me we won't get our arses thrown in Azkaban over this.'

Daphne relaxed visibly and took Maria's hand into hers, caressing her palm. 'I promise.' She said, looking into her eyes. Maria sniffed, head held high, refusing to be fooled again. 'Now, I'll take the hair and you take the fingernails? We should get down to this quickly -'

Maria huffed, shoving back Daphne's hand. She stood her from her seat, pacing back and forth in the dimly lit room, aware of Daphne's eyes on her back. She was fidgeting, her mind in turmoil. While a part of her felt ecstatic at the prospect of translating the parchment, Maria knew there was something amiss. She would be a fool if she didn't know that Daphne was toying with her, _using_ her for some ulterior purpose. Maria had been right in suspecting the other witch; Polyjuice Potion took at least two months to be brewed, and unless one was skilled at potions making –

Not to mention the whole box business. Dead men, Jewish women probably victim to some kind of Dark Ritual… What was going on here?

'I have another idea.' She said suddenly, turning to face a very vexed Daphne. 'You use that hair locket and I'll be right back.'

'What -' Daphne turned around, watching with a frown as Maria scurried past her. 'Where are you going?' She called after her.

Maria hurried up the stairs, almost losing her balance when the clock struck one in the morning. She gave her wand a hasty wave, and a few of the candles along the second floor immediately lit up, following towards the far end of the hallway. She shuffled to the door leading into her room with her wand in hand, cracking it open.

The floorboards creaked beneath her weight, but Maria paid them no mind. She crossed the room and sat on the bed, opening the first drawer in her little nightstand with shaking hands: inside, enveloped in blue linen, was a long wooden case. She hesitated to unwrap it at first, but shook her head, marvelling at the absurdity of the situation. The case had a few illegible carvings on its surface that Maria felt tempted to trace with her fingers; for some reason it occurred to her that these were made by children, for neither were they beautiful nor fine. The thick layer of dust she disturbed in unwrapping the strange case was enough to make her sniff.

The lid squeaked softly as Maria opened the case, revealing a severed wand and lock of thick blonde hair. The former was largely burned but, upon closer examination, the core was still there, though charred at the tip. The case was lined in blue and black velvet; Maria noticed that the inside of the lid was ripped open and someone wrote the initials 'M.W.' in black ink. Pushing the lid further back, she managed to shred a covered section and frowned at the '+ C.' written in a very familiar handwriting.

She stopped for a moment, listening to the creaking of Daphne's footsteps coming closer and wondered if she should hide the case.

'What're you doing?' Daphne crossed her arms, standing on the threshold. The pouch was firmly strapped against her waist again. Without waiting for an answer, the other witch propped herself on the bed next to Maria and craned her neck at the case. Her fingers were instantly on Maria's shoulder, making small circles on the exposed skin with her thumb.

'Hawthorn and dragon heartstrings?' Daphne wondered aloud, narrowing her eyes at the burned wand. She seemed more curious than vexed. 'Those are usually a match made for disaster.'

Maria said nothing. Instead, she was set on examining the lock of hair, caressing the blonde strands so unlike her own. She attempted to stem the sudden upsurge of bitter memories, the stabs of regret and longing the lock had occasioned, by thinking about her satisfaction once the parchment was translated.

'I'll use this,' she told Daphne firmly, holding up the lock.

Daphne gave her an odd look.

'Are you sure? There are less… personal options available.'

'Let's just get this over with.'

Daphne sighed but quickly took the vials and the box from within the pouch, giving one to Maria. She opened the top of her vial and poured a few strands of thick black hair: the potion slowly changed colour to a pleasant blue, no longer a substantial mud-like liquid. Maria felt a small pang of guilt in her stomach, thinking about the deceased Muggle man.

Daphne placed the vial right under her nose and smelled the top, looking pleased.

'Blueberries?' Maria asked, pouring a few blonde strands inside her vial. The liquid turned into a soft red, thicker than the potion in Daphne's vial.

'No idea. Is that the bathroom?'

Maria nodded, watching as Daphne wordlessly crossed her room with heavy steps. She paused for a moment, and then turned to Maria just before grabbing the knob, giving her one last glance.

'Drink the whole thing.'

And then she was gone.

'Good luck, Daphne.' Maria mumbled, giving her vial an unhappy look. She had a moment's hesitation, but took a deep breath and drank the potion in one go.

Immediately, her insides started writhing as though she'd just swallowed live snakes. Maria doubled up; holding on to the bed sheets for dear life, she wondered whether she was going to be sick as a burning sensation spread from her stomach to the very end of her fingers and toes –

She gasped and whimpered, brought down to the hard wooden floor on all fours. Her skin all over her body felt like it was burning and bubbling like hot wax and Maria felt she was melting. She risked a glance at the bathroom door, hearing moans from inside but before she could utter a word, her hands began to re-shape, her dress ripping at the chest as her own body expanded like a barrel bursting its hoops. A prickling on her forehead told her that her eyebrows were higher and her hair shorter; her face was now less soft and more angular, her nose straighter than before and, just like that, the pain stopped.

Maria opened her eyes and began gasping for air. Her eyesight was slightly blurry, though she could still tell the shapes of the closest objects. Her curves were too generous and her dress – now ripped - blocked most of her movements.

'Daphne?' She called weakly, practically dragging herself to the bathroom door. Her new warm voice with a bright, full timbre also came as a surprise and, for a moment, Maria almost forgot who was speaking.

Before she could open the door, a strong, deep voice answered her calls: 'Get the book. We leave in ten.'

'The book – right.'

Maria slipped a little, still weak on her legs. Her hands were shaking from bottled up nerves, though she managed to hold on to the nearby desk and walk to the closet. It took her a while to undress but, once in larger and more comfortable robes, Maria felt she could breathe easily again.

With no small amount of trepidation, she rummaged through the pockets of her discarded dress and hid the parchment beneath a pile of blankets inside her closet. Then, she rushed to the bed and lifted the mattress, taking the book from underneath. It was wrapped in fabric that had seen better days, the texture felt scruffy to the touch and the scent of mildew lingered.

Maria sat on the bed, waiting for the bathroom door to open. She refused to look at the mirror inside the closet door, refraining from looking into any reflective surface until the potion lost its effect. Her hands were still shaking, but at least she had regained the use of her limbs without causing a disaster.

'Daphne,' she breathed, gazing at the enormous man that came out of her bathroom with wide eyes. Words left her, and the only thing Maria could think about was exactly how Daphne managed to conjure a perfect attire for such a tall man. It would do her no good to ask questions now, though. Maria followed the tall man/Daphne with her eyes, lips slightly parted in genuine surprise.

'You're… a man.' She managed to say after a moment, receiving a glare from the other witch.

'Well spotted.' Daphne answered dryly in the same deep voice as before, sounding more than slightly threatening. She walked past Maria with awkward, gangly steps, still getting used to maintaining her balance in such a big body. 'We need to get going. Put on this robe and bring the book.' Daphne produced a pair of hooded robes out of her pouch and gave one to Maria.

'In case we might need them.' She added, attaching the pouch to her waist.

Maria nodded, leaping off the bed. She placed the book underneath her arm, checked for her wand and followed behind Daphne. The floorboards complained under their combined weight, even more so than usual.

'Where are we going?' Maria panted, trying to keep up with Daphne's large footsteps. Her stockier body had been a stranger to exercise; she was practically running through the moon lit meadows, but couldn't take more than five steps without being out of air. They soon reached a small clearing, a useful place for Portkeys and Apparitions that Maria knew well, and stopped.

'Moss Street, Manchester. Didn't I tell you before?' Daphne sighed, holding out her arm for Maria, voice booming in the silent forest.

'No, you didn't. You just showed up late and came up with a plan.' She said, taking Daphne's arm, having the book safely clutched under her arm. The other witch ignored her and closed her eyes, something Maria imitated as the familiar compressing feeling of an Apparition engulfed her again.

 

 

 

oooOOOooo

 

 

 

Maria opened her eyes and was dazzled by the brightness of a streetlight; she blinked, struggling to draw breath. Strong arms supported her weight as her weak legs felt ready to crumble on the ground.

'You alright?' Daphne asked, voice laced with concern. Maria hesitated for a moment before answering, taking in the shadowy alleyway surrounding them: a double-decker bus rumbled by in the main street, muffling the late-night revellers, and a group of merry pub-goers stomped close to the alley, chanting and cackling. They were blissfully unaware of the two witch's presence.

'I'm OK, just a bit dizzy,' she said, leaning against the cold stone wall. They were alone and well hidden for the moment.

'Do you need a moment?' Daphne asked. She was too close and her scent so musky that Maria had to turn away not to cough in her friend's face.

Maria shook her head, slowly getting to her feet. It was strange not being able to see fine detail anymore; she contemplated, however briefly, that this was an issue worth examining later.

Daphne gave her an odd look, but didn't let go of her arms. Once again, Maria couldn't shake off the feeling that something was amiss. 'Good. We need to hurry.' She said. 'Just try and act naturally until – you know.'

The two witches emerged from the alleyway and started walking up the wide main street thronged with debauching merrymakers and lined with closed shops, until they turned to a side street. Maria recognized the same group of merry pub-goers from before as they had yet to change tune. So far, no one had done much other than ogle them, much to Maria's chagrin.

'- too many people,' said Daphne. Maria was gazing at the Muggles with ill concealed interest and didn't pay much attention to her surroundings.

'Yes, of course.' She waved a chubby hand dismissively, staring with disgust at a Muggle doubled over and spilling the contents of his stomach.

Daphne sighed, leading them down another street, this one more narrow and silent. Maria tried not to touch an inch of the foul-looking buildings that were covered in graffiti. She hopped every now and then, avoiding the litter on the sidewalk and turned up her nose at the smoky stench filling her nostrils. The few bystanders gave them suspicious glances, but carried on their way without so much as a word.

'Look, there!' Daphne whispered, pointing somewhere between a cardboard box and a dumpster.

'What?' Maria narrowed her eyes, trying to make out the lone figure that lying inside. 'Are you sure?'

Daphne didn't answer; instead, she dragged Maria, stopping at the dumpster. There was the sound of shuffling and the click-click of a walking stick and a bent, elderly figure appeared in the grey, dead, dusty air, poking its head out of the box. Maria saw that it had a beard of the short bristled type which was splayed in directions, suggesting its owner had been interrupted halfway through his sleep.

'Who's there?' It wheezed, coughing long and hard in its attempt to emerge from its sanctuary. The stench of alcohol was grating.

Maria looked down on the man, her forehead wrinkling in puzzled disgust. Her first reaction was to immediately grab the hilt of her wand, hidden beneath the long cloak, standing guard while Daphne approached the man with a gentle smile.

'It's alright, we mean you no harm,' she said, palms up in the air, as if a mountain of a man in the middle of the night wasn't reason to be afraid. 'We can see that you're perhaps in need of money to fix your home?'

She pointed at the holes and wet edges with a large hand. The man furrowed his thick grey brows, glaring daggers at the two witches.

'I ain't no beggar,' he snarled, gripping his walking stick with both hands.

Daphne took one step forward.

'Of course, my good sir,' she replied, albeit a bit less patient than before. 'Actually, we're in need of a favour, and there's good money if you help us. Can you read?' This earned her another glare, filled with suspicion and fear. It took Maria all her self-restraint not to gape at the odd situation they had gotten themselves into.

In hindsight, between the man's insistence that they were trying to rob him blind – of what, Maria could only wonder - and Daphne's own rebuttal that the only thing they required was an interview, she was surprised that it only took them about fifteen minutes and parting with two galleons worth, her pocket watch and a pair of gloves to drag the old man into one of the back alleys. There was a bit of name calling on the way, muffled mentions of 'twat' and 'doing one' every once in a while, but Maria and Daphne only exchanged a puzzled look when the man wasn't looking.

They took an abrupt turn that led them into a dead-end because apparently 'the streets weren't safe anymore'. When the old man came to a stop, he barked something unintelligible, forcing Maria and Daphne to follow, crouching and crawling under what looked like the remnants of a metal door and enter an old warehouse. At this point, Maria felt one of many surges of nausea, turning away her gaze from unmentionable things splattered on the walls that smelled just as foul. Daphne was more stoic and less whiny, handling the situation with a severity Maria didn't possess.

'Over here,' the old man positioned himself under a broken banister and motioned for them to sit beside him.

'What's this place?' Maria hissed, glancing around nervously. She had kept her wand close, gripping the handle as if her life depended on it. Judging by the clenched jaw and stiff shoulders, she suspected that Daphne had done the same.

'This is perfect, Maria,' Daphne pointedly ignored her, voice barely above a whisper. 'If something goes wrong then it'll be even harder to trace it back to us!'

Maria all but scowled, giving the old man an appraising look; he didn't seem to notice or hear them, instead concentrating on rolling what seemed a very complex cigarette, shuffling for the tobacco and rizlas inside his large coat pockets. She ventured a glance, looking for someone hidden within the vicinity. The only discernible noise was that of water dripping from a leak in the ceiling, and there was no sign of anyone else but the three of them. Still, Maria gripped her wand.

'My good sir,' Daphne sat next to the old man, gesturing for Maria to pass her the book. She unwrapped the fabric with exaggerated slowness and placed it on the floor within Daphne's reach. 'Where exactly are we?'

'Old place,' the man replied gruffly, pulling out a lighter. The walking stick lay forgotten on the floor. 'Fell apart during the Great War. No one's bothered with it ever since.'

Maria snorted. The place seemed fairly unstable and barely holding itself together. 'I wonder why.'

'You here to ask me why things are the way they are, or is there an actual point to this gibberish?'

The man's breath was a horrid, strange mixture between alcohol and something Maria couldn't identify; most likely the cause to the yellow in his teeth and the blemishes on his skin. All she could do was flinch as the man leaned forward, snarling at her threateningly before dissolving into another coughing fit.

'You're not from around here, are you Sir?' Daphne went on, shooting Maria a nasty glare. 'I'd say you're from Scotland.'

'Perceptive of you, laddie,' the man grunted, his eyes red and watering. 'McGregor's the name.'

'T'was the accent,' Daphne said, tapping her fingers on the dark leather bound.

'Aye.' The old man McGregor nodded. He was watching the book apprehensively. 'What's this interview 'bout, then? I ain't got all night.'

'T'is quite simple in fact. Although,' Daphne paused, giving Maria a sideways glance. 'It's not much an interview as an experiment of sorts. All you need to do is read from this book.' She pointed at it with one long finger.

The man continued to cough, staring at Daphne and Maria with wide eyes as if they had suddenly turned into teapots and started tap-dancing merrily.

'Yer mad, laddie! You 'n yer lady bribe an ol' man in the mid eve just to read from some bloody book? That just ain't right. Yer hidin' somethin'.'

'That's why it's called an _experiment_ , old man.' Maria hissed. If the man didn't cooperate then they'd have to use the Imperius Curse on him.

'Think of it as a social experiment!' Daphne said, cheerfully. 'We're here just to give you a little nudge.'

The old man reached for his walking stick with his free hand, gripping it until his knuckles turned white. His face displayed nothing but fear and, perhaps, some remorse; Maria wondered if he had really thought through what could happen, leading such a strange couple into a secluded area without any guarantee of safety.

It would be a setback if the man tried to leave now.

'It's part of the interview.' Maria insisted. 'Call it a case study. It's just reading, nothing more.'

'Yer payin' me to read from a book?' Though incredulous, the man drew a shaky hand to collect the book, while the other still gripped the walking stick close by. 'Yer mental lass.'

'I've never heard of someone complaining for getting paid to do something simple.' Maria huffed, furrowing her brow. She shot Daphne a meaningful look, but was ignored. Her friend was checking her watch with a concerned expression.

'Mental,' the old man McGregor mumbled, giving the odd couple one last glance before setting the book on his lap. The silence that followed was heavy with anticipation, as the two witches watched nervously as the man turned the first page.

'So?' Maria leaned forward, fidgeting with her wand. 'Read something out loud, old man.'

She was rewarded with a glare. ' _The Veritable Sapientia_ ,' he read on, eyes scrunched up in concentration. ' _Origins of Gobbledegook, Mermish and_ _muy_ _obscure tongues_ –' the man looked up, his face fearful. 'Yer part of a cult?'

'Of course not.' Daphne growled. She stood to an impressive height and motioned for Maria to do the same. 'Keep reading from the book.'

'Look -'

'Just _read_.' Maria insisted, feeling giddy with excitement. Her wide grin didn't go unnoticed by the old man who recoiled against the wall, lowering his eyes again to the book. 'This time from the middle areas.'

' _Imprudentia, on the day and hour of Venus, you must cut a stick from a branch of an elder tree_ – wut's this nonsense 'bout -'

Daphne quickly snatched the book from the old man's blemished hands, wrapping it again with the same fabric. 'I think that's quite enough, thank you.' She raised her eyebrows, looking down on the old man who further leaned against the wall with disgust.

'There're spells and potions here!' Maria breathed, taking the book for herself. She traced the index page with a finger, eyes opened wide. 'Not just translations, but also -'

'We have _ten minutes_ ,' Daphne hissed, cutting off Maria. 'Let's go. _Now_.'

'But what about…?' Maria stared at the elderly figure lying against the wall, shivering and pointing his walking stick offensively at them. She almost snorted.

'Go outside, I'll take care of this.'

'Are you -'

' _Go_.' Daphne grabbed Maria's arm, dragging her to the warehouse's entrance. 'Stay outside. I'll be back in a minute.'

Maria raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. She crouched under the door, crawling until she reached the narrow alleyway and leaned against the wall, trying to clean whatever filth had stuck on her cloak. Usually, she would've wrinkled her nose in disgust, but right now there was little that could spoil her mood –

Maria flinched, staring at the door with wide eyes; she was sure there had been a bright light reflected on the broken glass on the floor, but if it had been blue or green she wasn't certain. What was Daphne thinking? They didn't agree on this!

' _What did you do_ , _what did you do_?' she all but yelped moments later, when Daphne came out from beneath the metal door.

'I took care of it.' She said, simply. Maria gaped at the other witch, not yet processing she was being dragged through the alleys again. 'Now hurry, we need to return!'

'But, the old man…?'

'He's better off right now. Let's go!'

Maria ran until they found a good place to Apparate, feeling scared at just completely out of her control the night had become.

 

 

oooOOOooo

 

 

 

'You're delusional, Daphne!' Maria screamed, banging the door of her room. 'What did you do to that old man? We agreed on this!'

Daphne sat heavily on the bed, rubbing her eyes with a shirt sleeve several sizes larger. Not long after arriving at Maria's house, the Polyjuice potion's effects started wearing off, leaving the two girls writhing on the floor of the living room as they painfully transformed into themselves again. She hadn't yet spoken one word ever since they left Moss Street.

Maria sat on the bed next to her. 'Did you kill him?' she asked, on edge, eyeing the other witch earnestly.

'We both got what we needed.' Daphne said simply. 'Don't ask any more questions. It's better for you.'

Daphne absently stroked her leather purse. Maria bit her lip.

'Let's see the book, shall we?'

Maria nodded, opening the book on Daphne's lap. The other witch expertly rummaged through the index, while Maria stalked to the other side of the bed to retrieve the parchment from underneath the mattress.

'Anything?' Daphne asked, after a while of searching.

Maria's shoulders dropped and she shook her head. 'Nothing. Absolutely nothing. So much work for this useless book.'

'Tsk, tsk. How much did you spend?'

'Ten Galleons, at least.' She sighed, feeling miserable.

'Pity.'

Maria kept the parchment close, away from Daphne's prying eyes. She knew what was written there, after all; she had spent weeks staring at it, trying to find something to help translate it, but there had been nothing then and there was nothing now, much to her chagrin. All their work had been for nothing. Weeks of searching had been for naught. They could've been caught tonight and they would've certainly been thrown in Azkaban for it, but even that adventure had seemed insignificant because there was nothing to help Maria.

At least one of them had got something out of their outing, she thought, narrowing her eyes at a pensive Daphne.

Maybe she wasn't meant to know what those fine letterings meant. Surely after so many attempts something was bound to come up. If there was something akin to Fate, then it was certainly toying with her patience and goodwill.

'I should just give up.' She said, sighing heavily. 'There's nothing that can help me translate this - this _thing_ ,' Maria spat, infuriated, feeling the parchment crumple in her hand. 'Tonight was a mistake; I should've learned weeks ago that this would never lead anywhere.'

Daphne shrugged. 'Well, at least you've gotten an interesting book, if I may say so. Just look at this, here -'

Maria shot Daphne a glare, annoyed that the other witch wasn't paying her attention. With a snort, she leaned forward and mouthed the faded heading on top of the page: ' _Tempus Grammaticus_ ,' she frowned, puzzled. 'What's this?'

'It seems your little black book isn't just a compendium of unusual languages,' Daphne turned the page, revealing a horrifying image of a woman screaming. 'There're also a few spells and potions that look rather… remarkable.'

'Is that so?' Maria said, distractedly playing with her fingernails.

'Oh yes. There's one potion that enables the drinker to learn foreign languages by drinking it, per example. You just need a piece of someone who knows the language you want to learn; a strand of hair would be suitable according to the book -'

'A twice-removed cousin from the Polyjuice Potion, then.' Maria glanced at the book. 'What's the catch?'

'You lose all knowledge of the previous languages you knew, unless the person who gives you a piece of himself knew how to speak it. And even then, you'd have to rely on their familiarity with it.' Daphne hummed under her breath, tracing the small letters at the bottom of the page. 'It says here: ' _The drinker will not retain any knowledge of the written word_ _–_ '

Maria huffed. 'You'd be learning English all over again if you drank that, you mean. Not worth the risk.'

'Indeed.' Daphne nodded, turning the page. 'This is a very interesting book, do you mind if I take it with me for a few days…?'

'Sure, why not -'

Suddenly, there was a loud knock on the door downstairs. Both witches jumped at the sound of a distinct male voice. Maria almost ran towards the window, looking down to her front porch.

'What's my father doing here?' She wondered aloud. Daphne was standing behind her, puzzled.

'You should probably go downstairs and find out,' Daphne offered. 'I'll stay up here unless you call me.'

'Right.' Maria shoved the parchment inside her robes, marching quickly down the stairs until she reached the front door. The knocking was becoming more insistent.

' _Maria_!' Her father called, voice booming in the silence of her house. ' _Open the door, quickly_!'

Maria turned the handle, staring in fright at just how disheveled her father was. She caught him in mid knock, his expression thunderous, hair uncombed and clothes tousled as she had never seen him before.

'What happened?' She breathed, stepping aside for her father to cross the threshold. 'Why are you here?'

'Close the door, _now_.' He growled.

She jumped when her father grabbed her arm, closing the door with a loud 'thump', and dragging her to the living room with urgency. Looking up at the stairwell, Maria was sure that Daphne was watching them from the shadows on the top floor, but before she could say anything, her father made her flickered his wand to light a few candles and forced her to sit.

'Father -' she started, but he cut her off.

'Maria, I shouldn't be here to tell you this,' he sat down in front of her, hands on her shoulders, gripping tightly. 'It doesn't matter if we're family, the law is the law, and as a Ministry Official what I'm about to tell you is both illegal to disclose and extremely serious -'

Maria opened her mouth to speak, but found that she could only gape. Words had left her.

'There is to be a hearing at the Ministry next week,' her father said, looking her in the eyes. 'What happened in Flourish & Blotts was only the result of a series of miscalculations and swindles the goblins suffered at the hands of people like your manager and Ludo Bagman -'

'My _manager_?' Maria mumbled, feeling her heart beat fast. 'What the devil are you talking about? What's this about a hearing?'

'The goblins are mad, they're demanding a trial.' He said, sombrely. 'They want someone to pay for stealing the books.'

'What?!' Maria yelped. She had suspected it, of course, but to hear that the books were stolen with certainty was another thing entirely. 'But what's that got to do with me?'

Her father gulped. Maria felt her shoulders being gripped more tightly.

'You're being called to testify on Monday.' He grimaced, as if something was paining him. 'For having been the one to sign the documents perceiving to the books when Slughorn arrived with them. You're under formal suspicion of having helped steal the books.'

'What?' Maria breathed, eyes wide open. There was a cold feeling to her blood that had nothing to do with the weather. 'I didn't do anything, the manager just asked me, father, asked _me_ to be there when Slughorn arrived -'

'I know my dear,' he assured her. 'And I'll do whatever is in my power to stop you from being condemned of theft; no one in their right mind would think that _you_ would do such a thing, but the Minister's cracking under the goblin's demands. _You_ will have to testify and save yourself from this lunacy.'

With trembling hands, her father gave her a light squeeze, looking at her so fondly that it pained Maria he still thought so highly of her.

'Do you know anything about this? Anything at all?' He asked firmly, though not unkindly. 'This I must know, so the proper arrangements can be made in case something goes amiss.'

Maria hesitated. She didn't know anything, per say. She had _stolen_ something, which was her only crime in this whole situation.

'No, but I took something.' She said quickly, before regretting her words. Her father's eyes flashed in concern. 'I opened one of the books after Slughorn left and took a piece of parchment that fell on the floor. I didn't think it was important!'

Her heart was beating fast. There was disappointment in her father's eyes, and she couldn't bear to look at him.

'Where is this parchment?' He asked, after a few seconds of heavy silence.

Maria hesitated before producing the parchment from within her robes. There was something amiss here too, she sensed it. There was something left unsaid, too much she wanted to make her father understand but before she could even think of where to start, her father startled her by taking the parchment and ripping it in pieces in front of her.

'What're you doing?' she mumbled, stunned, trying to reach for the shredded pieces.

Her father stood up, marching towards the fireplace with a thunderous expression that frightened Maria. 'We can't leave any loose ends. The fact that you've stolen this parchment could be enough for the Wizengamot to condemn you in less than a fortnight!'

Maria mouthed ' _The_ _Wizengamot_ ', feeling strangely faint again. She held on to the small tea table until her knuckles turned white, as she watched the flames in the fireplace roaring.

Before she could react, her father threw what remained of the parchment into the fire. Maria crawled over to the fireplace, repeating the words " _no_ " over and over again, as she watched the flames devouring the fine paper.

She looked up at her father from the floor, mouth agape, unable to process yet what she had lost.

'We need to make arrangements,' he said firmly, kneeling next to her. 'Are you alright?'

Maria said nothing. She could only watch the flames burn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One chapter left until Middle Earth! How will Maria survive this trial?


	7. Act I - Chapter 7: Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A whole lot of trouble.

Chapter Seven – Part 1: Trial and Flight

_It is the unknown we fear when we look upon death and darkness, nothing more._

**J. K. Rowling** , _Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince_

 

 

* * *

 

**_September 13th, 2004_ **

‘- I signed the papers and then went home. That’s it.’

Ignatius Derwent clapped a pair of pale, spider-like hands twice, leaning back languidly on his chair. It took Maria all her self-restraint not to cringe at the sudden, nerve-wrecking symphony his pillowed seat performed every time there was a shift in weight.

‘A fascinating story, Miss Cooper,’ Derwent pressed his fingers together, watching her over the top of his hands. ‘Shall I tell you about goblins? I know two interesting facts about them.’

Maria raised her eyebrows. A smell of tobacco and peppermint wafted through the air, heavy and refreshing, but it did nothing to dull the sense of dread she had been feeling lately. There was nothing the old man could tell her that she hadn’t considered over the past two weeks.

One of her hands rested atop her lap, unmoving. The other was half concealed, fumbling mindlessly with the fabric of her pockets. It had been far too long since something else, thicker than paper but soft and ridged, was kept within her person.

Behind her, the floorboards creaked. She heard a shuffle, followed by an impatient grunt. Maria didn’t bother turn around; instead, she kept staring straight ahead, focusing on the inquisitive paintings after Derwent. Most of their inhabitants were giving her curious looks, pointing and whispering. She sent them a glare in return.

There was another squeak, and she tried not to picture an old pair of wiggly buttocks.

‘The first interesting thing about goblins, Miss Cooper,’ the old wizard continued, tapping his fingernails on the wooden top. ‘Is that they seldom part with their possessions willingly; only a very foolish wizard would attempt to deprive a goblin of something he owned by right.’

Maria continued to stare straight ahead, avoiding the old man’s eyes at all cost. Trust Derwent to paint the situation direr than it was supposed to be.

‘Yes,’ she replied rather sharply. ‘I know that, sir. Different sense of property and such.’

‘Indeed,’ said Derwent in apparent surprise. ‘Then you must know their views on theft.’

Maria had an ominous feeling now; she wondered if Derwent guessed more than he was letting on.

‘Look,’ she insisted. ‘I don’t know what _they_ ’re expecting me to say, but I can assure you nothing I ever did would harm the Ministry or anyone who works here -’

‘And, pray tell, what did you _do_ , Miss Cooper?’

‘As I said,’ she growled. ‘ _I signed the papers and then went home_.’

There was a brief silence, broken only by the tapping of Derwent’s fingertips. Maria stared down at her hands. For a second, she almost gave in to the urge to fidget, but in a rare show of self-restraint, forced herself to stand still and wait for some kind of patronizing speech. It struck her that, in her short time working in the Ministry, she had started to grow used to this dynamic. It certainly didn’t bode her as healthy.

But that didn’t upset her half as much as the roaring laughter that came from Derwent’s throat, an almost guttural noise that took Maria by surprise. Her head immediately shot up, and she stared at the old man leaning back on his chair with wide eyes, thumping his bony fist on the desk. She risked a glance at the two Aurors near the door, and it irked her that neither seemed miffed.

‘You still have time until your hearing starts,’ Derwent grunted, wiping a few tears. The painting dwellers had fallen silent. ‘Take the rest of the day off, and tomorrow we’ll discuss this further.’

Maria blinked. ‘I- er, thank you, Sir. I should go see my father -’

Derwent cut her with a wave. ‘Proudfoot, go with Miss Cooper.’

‘I don’t need -’

‘Oh, but you do,’ Derwent raised an eyebrow, suddenly stern. ‘The lower levels are crawling with goblins, Miss Cooper. What do you think they would do to you, if they had the chance?’

Maria stood from the chair, head held high and wand in hand, feeling her blood run cold. ‘Nothing at all, since I didn’t do anything and no goblin knows I’m under suspicion.’ She almost added ‘ _mistakenly_ ’, but couldn’t bring herself to say it out loud.

Derwent snorted. ‘Your naivety amazes me,’ Maria gave him a stiff nod and prepared to stalk away. Much to her chagrin, Proudfoot followed suit.

‘Miss Cooper?’

Maria stopped on her tracks and closed her eyes, feeling a large hand rest on her shoulder. The familiarity of this gesture, however, didn’t bother her as much as she would’ve thought.

‘One last thing about goblins,’ Derwent continued, his tone betraying only the slightest hint of concern. ‘Is that they only put up with wizards because they have no other choice.’

Maria hesitated. ‘Thank you for the warning, Sir,’ she said in a clipped voice, hand grasping the doorknob. The room had fallen silent. ‘I’ll bear that in mind.’

She glanced at Dawlish’s stiff form from the corner of her eye and then marched out the door. Proudfoot trailed close behind.

 

oooOOOooo

 

‘What was that about?’ she complained to no one in particular. A hasty Interdepartmental Memo flew her way, but Maria avoided it with surprising grace. Proudfoot glanced at the top of her head with a strange frown, but kept quiet.

They passed through a large oak door and joined the stream of witches and wizards moving towards the golden grills at the end of the hall, looking out for dodgy goblins. Maria let out a moan once they reached the smaller hall, where queues where forming in front of twenty golden grills housing as many lifts. They joined the nearest lift and clambered in the back in an awkward silence that made Maria increasingly nervous.

The golden grill opened on Level Three, and a crowd entered the lift, squishing Maria against the back wall. Her nose turned up as a tall wizard took a place next to her, his hair and robes half burned and stinking of smoke, shaking as he coughed and leaving ashes on the floor and her hair. She scoffed, internally cursing Magical Maintenance. The grills shut with a clang and the lift began to move downwards.

‘Derwent’s had two weeks,’ she insisted once the lift came to its next stop with a bump. Her voice was barely above a whisper. ‘Why do this now?’

‘Call it a formality,’ Proudfoot replied easily once they were out of hearing reach and stepped into the hall. Maria groaned, vexed for such an unhelpful answer.

‘A waste of time, you mean,’ she grumbled, careful not to trip on her robes, ‘of _my_ time, since there’s going to be a hearing in less than two hours.’

She glared at the Auror, and hurried her pace. He had no trouble following her.

They crossed a hallway with doors on both sides and turned on a corner, passing through a noisy area split in cubicles, where she heard the echoing of laughter and loud conversations. A few wizards glanced at them with interest as they marched forward to the offices.

Somewhere down the hallway, Maria suddenly stopped and felt her blood run cold: a group of goblins was coming towards them. They didn’t seem to have noticed her, instead huddling together, whispering furiously and pointing at the locked doors behind them. Their small, dark eyes swept past the hallway with undeniable malice, and directed a glower at the nearest wizards. Maria took a deep breath.

The noise around them waned down gradually to an awkward silence, and she wondered what could have happened for these goblins to look so cross.

‘Come,’ Proudfoot led her through the hallway ahead.

‘Derwent was right,’ she mumbled, keeping her eyes downcast. She took extra care to avoid the goblins, going as far as to trying to conceal herself behind Proudfoot’s bulk. ‘But what are they doing here? Why’s there no security?’

A calloused hand patted her shoulder gently. ‘There’s plenty security, Miss Cooper. Now come along.’

Maria hurried to the end of the hallway, checked the name tag on the last door, and pressed her ear against the hard wood surface. She ignored Proudfoot’s puzzled look, and tried to make out the loud voices on the other side.

‘Strange course of action, Miss Cooper,’ he pointed, thick eyebrows knitted together in a frown.

Maria glared. ‘What if he’s in a meeting?’

‘Then you should knock.’

A man of few words, Maria contemplated wearily. ‘I don’t think he’d like being interrupted,’ she insisted, as if speaking to a singularly daft individual.

Proudfoot crossed his arms.

‘No matter, you shouldn’t be dropping no eaves, Miss Cooper.’

Maria sighed. ‘As you wish,’ she budged, knocking twice. Hurried footsteps approached the door, and she took a step back as precaution. It opened slowly, with a horrible squeak, and a witch appeared on the threshold squinting at Maria, as if trying to figure where to place her.

Maria grounded her teeth, seething in silence.

‘Mr. Cooper is in an important meeting,’ the woman said. ‘Can I help you?’

Before Maria could answer, Proudfoot placed a hand on her shoulder and addressed the other witch: ‘Miss _Cooper_ is here to see her father. I’m to accompany her, under Derwent’s orders.’

The witch, Maria observed with some satisfaction, was borderline anxious and kept glancing at the door behind her, half-expecting for something to happen. The voices got louder, and they both jumped at the sound of something shattering ahead.

‘But - oh, very well, just wait inside for a moment,’ the other witch said feebly, moving aside for them to pass.

Maria nodded, aware she was being examined with ill concealed curiosity and marched inside. This chamber was not unlike her own, even if there was an outstanding amount of goblin paintings and statuettes abound. While it was more orderly and neat than Derwent’s office could ever boast, there was an uncomfortable feeling to it that she couldn’t quite pin down.

As she watched the witch disappear scurry off, it occurred to Maria how seldom she had visited her father at work.

‘Nervous?’ Proudfoot asked gently, staring at her with raised eyebrows.

‘Just thinking about this whole mess,’ she lied, looking around the office.

Proudfoot kept silent, much to Maria’s relief. In the following silence, her gaze fell on the desk perched near the wall, and with some glee noticed that _hers_ was bigger. She suppressed a smirk when the other witch appeared on her side, instead fumbling with the inside of her pocket. Small victories, indeed.

‘Mr. Cooper will see you in a moment,’ she said, and a long forgotten prejudice, mingled with jealousy, threatened to be voiced.

‘Thank you,’ Maria said with caution, keeping a neutral tone. ‘Will ‘ _a moment_ ’ take long?’

She was met with a frown, replaced at once with something akin to polite confusion. ‘It depends on how the conversation with Mr. Bagman goes,’ the other witch said in a strict tone. ‘Now, if you’ll excuse me, I should return to work.’

‘Thank you, Miss Granger,’ Proudfoot said quickly. Maria felt her shoulder being squeezed in warning, and nodded at the witch in mock politeness. ‘Carry on.’

Maria tapped her foot on the floor, her nerves increasing by the minute. She recognized her father’s muffled voice on the other side of the door, rising every once in a while in rage. There was also another voice she couldn’t recognize, this one more high pitched and less thunderous, and she pitied the foolish wizard daring to go against her father. The word “ _goblins_ ” echoed through the office.

She glanced at the other two: it seemed Proudfoot and the witch – _Granger_ , she corrected with some resentment – shared in her concern; one inspected the paintings while the other pretended to work, but both would often glance at the door, worried plastered on their faces. Maria wondered if she had seen Granger’s hands tremble as the witch picked up a quill, or if it was just her imagination.

She counted a whole ten minutes until the voices waned down. Maria was determined not to look at the statuettes or any goblin-like piece to avoid further vexation.

Out of the blue,the door barged open and a disheveled man came out, leaning on two Aurors that Maria recognized as Potter and Savage. In a swift motion, both Granger and Proudfoot were upon them, and Maria almost gasped when she saw the face of Ludo Bagman.

‘I’m alright, the old leg just gave out,’ Bagman joked, all traces of the boyish wizard she had once met, gone. ‘Would you pass me that cane, Harry?’

Maria watched dumbfounded as Ludo Bagman drew a trembling arm to grab the cane, the skin on his hand scarred and bruised. She flinched at the sight of a mutilated finger; half the flesh had been torn, blistering near the nails in an angry reddish colour. She briefly wondered what curse had been used, making a mental note to ask Daphne after the hearing.

‘Miss Cooper,’ Proudfoot called brusquely, while providing Bagman a solid body for extra support. ‘Go to your father, I’ll wait here for you.’

Maria blinked. ‘Right.’

She scurried into her father’s office without a second thought, closing the door with a bang. Seeing Bagman like that wasn’t something she expected. When her father mentioned that he was in a bad shape, Maria assumed there had been small casualties, perhaps a few broken bones or bruises. This was beyond anything she had imagined. She had been a fool to think the goblins were throwing a tantrum over the books; they were using their own brand of justice and that made her blood curl. How long would it be until she was attacked at her own home?

‘Maria -’

Maria whirled round, wand in hand, her robes swirling around her legs; she gasped at the wizard sitting on the desk, encircled by crunches of broken china and small goblin heads on the floor and over what she assumed had been neatly stacked piles of paper. He stared at her with a small smile, and she felt her eyes water at the pale complexion and dark bangs under his lopsided glasses.

‘What happened?’ she asked in a trembling voice, hurrying to his side. ‘What did Bagman do now?’

Her father flinched, as if slapped. His eyes wandered to the door and then back at Maria, and he let out a heavy breath, cradling his head in his hands.

‘Father?’ she called in a small voice. ‘The door’s closed now,’ she pressed, shaking his shoulder gently. ‘Will you tell me what happened?’

‘It’s confidential, Maria. Don’t ask me anything else,’ he grunted, and rubbed his temple. Maria cringed at the dilated pupils and bloodshot eyes, but resisted the urge to give a self-righteous lecture. Even she knew there were some lines that weren’t meant to be crossed.

‘Very well,’ she swallowed, thinking fast about something else, anything, that didn’t involve goblins or Bagman. ‘Do you know where Daphne is? She told me she’d meet us here.’

Maria was at the end of an odd look.

‘You invited your friend?’

‘Well,’ she frowned, ‘She was the one who insisted -’

‘You told _Daphne Greengrass_ about this trial?’

She gulped, panicking under her father’s thunderous stare. Of course, he was ignorant of their nightly dealings a fortnight ago, and would always remain so if she got her away. There was no mild approach for her to break the news; it would be unwise to reveal this secret to someone else so close to the trial, but she couldn’t explain Daphne’s presence that night without raising questions. Secrets always had a price, and Maria wondered when she’d start paying hers.

‘She read something on the Daily Prophet,’ said Maria. Another lie, another secret to haunt her. ‘Starting asking questions and I couldn’t very well leave her without answers. She’s my oldest friend.’ This last part was added almost in a whisper, and she felt irked at how vulnerable her voice sounded.

For a long while there was silence. Then her father took a heavy breath, scrutinizing her face and his eyes betrayed emotion that Maria couldn’t make out.

‘We need to get you ready for the hearing -’

They both jumped as insistent knocks echoed from the door before it opened with a bang; there was Proudfoot, standing outside the doorway with Granger by his side, and his face was slackened, brow furrowed, and his eyes darted between Maria and her father.

‘Mr and Miss Cooper, I’m sorry for the intrusion but we need to leave,’ he said, eying them with urgency. ‘They changed the time of the hearing.’

Maria opened her mouth to speak, but no sound came out.

‘Merlin’s beard, when is it?’ her father stood up from the chair, robes falling in a cascade of dark velvet.

‘In five minutes, Mr Cooper.’

Proudfoot reached the desk in large steps, and both wizards spoke in hushed, urgent voices, leaving Maria out of the conversation. She kept staring at them, hands shaking beneath her sleeves.

‘Let’s go,’ her father said all of a sudden. Proudfoot was already at the door, giving Granger instructions.

‘But -’

Maria felt her shoulder being squeezed and then she was dragged out of the office with Proudfoot and her father, the latter holding her by the hand. She gasped in surprise at their swiftness, panting as the two wizards quickly made their way through crowds and hallways until they reached the lift area. Much to her surprise, there were no goblins in sight anymore.

‘What happened?’ she asked, pausing to catch her breath. Once again, Maria was being squeezed against the back wall of the lift. For a brief second she wondered what had happened to Bagman. ‘Why did they reschedule?’

The lift began to move downwards.

‘We’ll speak once we get there,’ her father explained. He was still holding her shoulders in a firm grip. Never had Maria felt so nervous.

‘And what about Daphne?’ she hissed. ‘Someone should warn her -’

Maria glanced sideways at her father. He was staring straight ahead, quite as pale as she was, his dark robes contrasting heavily with a sickly complexion. No one seemed to mind them; most had entered when the grills opened on Level Five and huddled in front of them, discussing a long parchment in hushed voices. Still, when long fingers closed on her shoulder for the briefest of moments, Maria fell silent, looking down at her shoes for the rest of the ride.

The lift rattled and stopped; the grilles opened once more.

‘ _Department of Mysteries_ ,’ said a disembodied female voice.

‘We’re here,’ Proudfoot stepped out of the lift. Maria followed suit.

They set off, their destination the doorway on the left-hand side, which lead on to the flight of stairs down to the court chambers. As she crept down them, heels clicking on the polished stone, Maria kept glancing around, expecting to find a stray goblin somewhere; however, as they got closer to the court chambers, she found many Aurors guarding the premises. Seeing her worry, Proudfoot whispered in her ear that most were in already with the Wizengamot.

Maria gulped.

‘ _Inside_ the court chambers?’ she mumbled, eyes widening. ‘They’ll be… watching my hearing?’

‘There’s nothing to worry about, Miss Cooper,’ Proudfoot gave her a reassuring smile. ‘Plenty security, those were the Minister’s orders. Derwent made sure you’d be well guarded as well.’

‘So he can make snide comments tomorrow, of course,’ she grimaced.

‘As a matter of fact, he did so on my personal request,’ her father raised an eyebrow, glancing at her from the corner of his eye. Maria felt her ears redden.

They stepped into the torchlit stone passageway, this one similar to the dungeons in Hogwarts. The doors they passed by were made of heavy wood with iron bolts and locks, and they stopped next to a door fitted with a phenomenal lock, guarded on both sides with Aurors. Maria thought they were grim, much too serious and felt her blood run cold when one of them made mention of taking out his wand.

‘Proudfoot, Mr and Miss Cooper,’ the Auror nodded in their direction. ‘Someone will call for you soon. You’re late.’

Maria huffed, gripping her father’s arm tighter. ‘How can we be late if they decided to change the time of the hearing not ten minutes ago?’

‘That’s not the Wizengamot’s problem -’

‘Then they should’ve rescheduled!’

The Auror puffed his chest, glaring down at Maria.

‘No one could have predicted the death of Edwin Cuthbert!’ he hissed, turning to Proudfoot. ‘Seven goblins arrested at his house, word is the daft fool tried to bargain with them and then planned to flee the country. The Prophet’s having a field day!’

‘You’ve successfully barred reporters from the lower levels?’ Proudfoot furrowed his brow. Maria sat down with a heavy bump on a hard wooden bench, mouth agape and tears welling up in her eyes. She was enveloped in a hug by her father, hiding her face in dark velvet.

The Auror gave a harsh nod. ‘We have men in the Atrium ensuring there are no disturbances.’

‘Good. Miss Cooper,’ Proudfoot turned to her, gripping his wand. She looked up; he had a grim frown on his face. ‘It’s almost time.’

Maria sniffed. ‘The manager -’

‘You need to pull yourself together,’ he pressed, pulling Maria to her feet. The door behind them opened and a witch came out, holding a clipboard and a quill. Maria shivered.

‘Miss Cooper?’ she called, glancing around anxiously.

‘Here,’ Maria mumbled, breaking free from Proudfoot’s stare. She brushed a few tears away with her hand.

‘Please come with me,’ the witch gestured for Maria to follow.

‘Aren’t you coming in?’ she whispered to her father, looking up at him with red rimmed eyes.

‘I’ll be right behind you,’ he said gently, rushing her forward. In the torchlight, he looked paler than ever.

Maria gulped, and entered the courtroom.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Apologies for the delay, but between work and almost no time to rest, writing this chapter was painful. It’s quite the monster, especially Part 2, so I thought it would be a good idea to give you a first taste of what’s happening during the final disclosure of Act I. Give me three days, tops, and Part 2 will be out. It’s nearly finished.  
> Good news! I’ll have a great deal of free time until February, so the story will have faster updates. Aiming for once every two weeks.   
> A big hug to everyone who reviewed the story so far, to every anonymous reader and lurker; you guys make my day. Massive thanks to Leah for beta services, and a dozen muffins to everyone!  
> See you in three days :3


	8. Act I - Chapter 7: Part 2 + Act II - Prologue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Twists.

**Chapter Seven – Part 2: Trial and Flight**

 

**Warning: No offense meant towards librarians.**

* * *

 

Her first reaction was to suppress a scream.

The oversized dungeon was famous, having served as the chamber used to convict Death Eaters during the First Wizarding War. This was the place where the Lestranges were sentenced to life in Azkaban, along with some of the most dangerous dark wizards of her time. It seemed a little too much, having her trialed here; she was mostly innocent, after all.

At least fifty people were seated at the bench above, all staring down their noses at her, some with very austere expressions, and others grim. Maria remembered seeing some of these witches and wizards around Level Two. Most had been busy for the past week, - and barely acknowledged her existence in the halls - but she was certain that the members of the Wizengamot were always vigilant. The dark stone around them was dimly lit by torches, revealing many faces in the lower benches. They were whispering, but, when the heavy door closed behind Maria, a terrible silence fell upon the Courtroom.

 _Please let this be over fast_ , thought Maria numbly. She thought about Bagman's sorry state, and remembered her father's pleas for her to keep her head low until this blew off. At the time, the advice seemed exaggerated but Maria did her best to comply and be discreet. Thinking back, perhaps that had saved her from sharing the manager's fate.

She swallowed hard, looking straight ahead, and tried to force away the image of her own mutilated corpse, hanging limply from the top of the stairs.

'Go on Miss Cooper, you're already running late as it is,' hissed the witch at her side, ushering her inside with a poke of her clipboard.

'I'm sorry,' mumbled Maria. She eyed the small chair in the center of the room: chains covered the arms, unmoving on hard wood and it didn't take long before a terrible image of polished metal, tight against the bare skin beneath her sleeves, popped into mind. 'I didn't know the hearing had been rescheduled -'

'An owl was dispatched today with the details. Please take a seat.'

Maria gritted her teeth, wondering what would happen if she remarked upon this woman's lack of manners.

The other witch slithered through the crowd expertly and Maria took a step forward, heels clicking and echoing as she got closer to the center of the chamber. She sat with utmost care on the edge of the chair. The chains rattled, but didn't glide around her wrists, leaving her mostly movement-free.

Glancing around from this angle, Maria was able to make out a few of the shapes in the lower benches: long fingers grasped the rails, and she stared into the dark, slanted eyes of a goblin who glared in her direction, leaning into the light. She turned her head in a slow motion, concealing another whimper. Her heart was beating fast, and she forced herself to look up at the witches and wizards of the Wizengamot and forget everything else.

Some of these goblins were in Flourish & Blotts the day of the attack, she was sure of it.

For a second, Maria found herself fumbling through her pocket. It was empty, save for a few loose threads, and her heart clenched for reasons she didn't dare speak out loud.

' _We will start this hearing -_ '

Right in the center of the front row was the Minister for Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt, a tall, broad shouldered fellow she had seen talking to Derwent almost daily. Shacklebolt always had a kind smile for her, but today it had been replaced with a much less pleasant expression. On his left sat Derwent, tapping a bony finger on the rails. On Shacklebolt's right was a witch she didn't recognize, possibly the Undersecretary.

'The Ministry offers its apology for such a short notice reschedule,' Shacklebolt's deep voice boomed in the silence. If it wasn't for her nerves, Maria would've smirked, noticing the witch with the clipboard a few seats away, bowing her head. 'Is the Wizengamot ready to proceed?'

'Yes, Minister,' she heard Derwent's voice above the others.

'Preliminary Hearing, September thirteen,' continued Shacklebolt, 'into offenses committed by one Maria Elizabeth Cooper, on the eve of August thirteen, in league with the accused: Ludovic Bagman, Horace Slughorn and Edwin Cuthbert, now deceased.'

She heard the quick scratching of a quill.

'Inquisitors: Kingsley Shacklebolt, Minister for Magic, Ignatius Derwent, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement…' the list of names went on, but Maria was too mesmerized by the shinning piercing on the Minister's ear to remember any of them.

'The charges against the accused are as follows: that she deliberately and knowingly of the illegality of her actions, allegedly helped the accused hide and sell goblin property to the wizarding community, which consists in a direct violation of Paragraph…'

Maria blinked twice. Not only was this falsehood, but the charges were ludicrous. Of this she was completely innocent!

'Are you Maria Elizabeth Cooper?' asked Shacklebolt, looking at her over the top of his parchment.

'Yes, sir,' she answered.

'Do you deny committing these crimes?

'Yes.'

'Do you also deny being in league with the remaining accused, and partaking in the offense committed to the aforementioned goblin community?'

'I deny everything,' she answered as firmly as she could muster, gripping the edge of the chair with both hands.

The members of the Wizengamot were uttering; a few were staring at her with frank curiosity while the others shook their heads. Maria heard more whispering around her, some louder than others, and from the corner of her eye, she saw a group of menacing goblins glaring.

' _She lies!_ ' shouted one of the goblins, pointing a long finger at her head. ' _The librarian is guilty!_ '

Maria gaped, looking completely insulted. 'How dare you, I'm an administrative assistant, not a librarian!'

The whispering intensified. Maria felt trapped in the lone center, glancing left and right at the shadows, but all she could see were figures stirring in the dark unless they leaned forward. For the split of a second, she thought she saw the pale, anxious face of her father stepping into the light, but was distracted by the rising noise of stumps and threats.

'The Ministry has gathered evidence,' continued Shacklebolt, and the finality and command in his voice was enough to submit the tumultuous crowd into a gradual silence. 'That Maria Elizabeth Cooper was in Flourish & Blotts during the night of August thirteen, and signed for the delivery of stolen goblin property. Do you deny this, Miss Cooper?

'No, but -'

'Do you also deny having been personally responsible to safeguard these items, knowing you had been partaking in illegal activities?'

Maria paused, hands now curling into fists on her lap.

'I deny the accusations,' she raised her chin, and looked at the Minister for Magic directly; her cheeks were no longer so red, nor was her nose so swollen from crying, as fear had been replaced by anger over the injustice. 'The manager asked me to wait for Professor Slughorn in the shop that night, but no one mentioned the books had been stolen from goblins.'

Derwent leaned forward. 'Horace Slughorn delivered the books to you in person?'

Maria stared at the old wizard, bemused. As if he didn't know this, they had spoken not two hours ago.

'Yes,' she blinked. 'H-he passed by the shop shortly after dinner -'

'And you had no idea the books were stolen goblin property?' he pressed.

'Of course not, I was just a lowly employee, what else could I do but oblige?' the whispering began once more. 'Cuthbert asked me to stay after hours, he was my employer at the time, and thus I was under moral obligation to comply.'

Derwent gave her a patronizing look. 'Ironic that you ought to mention morals and ethic, Miss Cooper.'

Maria seethed.

Another witch from the Wizengamot, this one from the higher rows, addressed her:

'You work in the Ministry as of present, do you not?' this witch had a high pitched voice, bound to give Maria a headache soon. 'Pray tell, what urged you to make this decision? It has come to our attention that your sudden change of jobs was most fortuitous; were you running from something, Miss Cooper? Perhaps a goblin attack?'

Maria almost choked at this.

'I-I never meant to stay forever. When this job came up I…' she glanced at the half-hidden crowd, and then at the fifty witches and wizards staring down on her. 'I decided it was a better prospect. Do something I might actually like, a chance at an enhanced future.'

'A better ambition than remaining a bookshop clerk, is that what you mean, Miss Cooper?' Derwent asked.

'Well, yes -'

'You are truly a woman of ambition,' the old man snorted and, in the quiet humiliation that followed, Maria felt her face flush. 'That is to say, that you bear no ill will towards the goblin community, or their counterparts in Gringotts, when all your six applications for a position as a Curse Breaker were rejected?'

'That was two years ago,' she said in a clipped voice. Her ears were burning, and anger rose like bile in her throat, but Maria only clutched the arms of her chair tighter. 'I'm perfectly content where I am.'

Derwent raised his eyebrows. 'Were you, one month ago, when Horace Slughorn and Edwin Cuthbert made you a deal you could not refuse?'

Maria opened her mouth, angry beyond words, staring at the victorious face of Ignatius Derwent while all around her whispers had turned into loud conversations from the wizards and cries of outrage from the goblins.

'Enough!' shouted Shacklebolt, banging down a gavel over the commotion. Maria glanced at the goblins and immediately recoiled in her seat; three were being held down by Aurors, one of them none other than Proudfoot himself, and the rest shouted obscenities at her, trying to pass the rails.

Her eyes fell on one goblin: he was familiar, too much so, his long fingers holding the rails loosely and he stared at her – or through her, she wasn't sure – with pure hatred. His small, black eyes were a pit of anger, glaring daggers in her direction.

' _Order_ ,' boomed the Minister, banging down his gavel again. Maria broke free from the goblin's stare, and quickly turned her head. 'Miss Cooper,' he began, 'there is little evidence that sustains your deliberate involvement in this case, but the fact remains that you signed these documents.'

'Because I was asked to!' she cried. 'If I said no, then I could've been sacked on the spot!'

There was a pause. Maria could see the sympathy in the Minister's eyes. She reasoned that this ordeal was mostly a way to appease the angry goblin crowd; no one in their minds would believe such a ridiculous story.

However, she had no witnesses. The only one who could testify in her favor had been put to the ground, and she doubted Slughorn was able to save her from conviction. What was she to do? Her fate rested on the hands of fifty men and women who didn't know her and would forever have a low opinion of her skills.

Maria was livid; she blamed Derwent for this situation. What was he thinking?

As if to further vex her, the old man leaned towards Shacklebolt so that both wizards spoke quietly, their voices impossible to make out from where Maria was standing. The Courtroom was oddly tense, straining under a deafening silence. It seemed that the Aurors had managed to calm the goblins with some success, since they were no longer thrashing and bad-mouthing her lot. However, the weight of their combined glares was such that Maria recoiled a little further in her chair.

Eying the left side of the crowd, she caught a glimpse of her father's dark robes. For a fleeting moment, she thought he seemed paler than before and tense beyond measure, an erect figure clad in black amidst the crowd.

'Miss Cooper,' Shacklebolt called, calling Maria break from her daze. Derwent was following the exchange with rapt attention. 'The Wizengamot requests a test to be conducted on your wand. Do you agree?'

Maria nodded at once, fearing any unwillingness on her part could be interpreted as a sign of guilt. She proceeded to withdraw her wand from inside her robes, her hands trembling as a somber Ministry worker – most likely an Unspeakable, she figured – took it for inspection.

'Careful with it,' asked Maria, considering this tall, frigid wizard with a frown. Her words were met with a tired glower, and the short minutes after seemed to drag as she watched lean fingers trace polished cedar wood lovingly from end-to-end. She almost smiled when the wizard finished his ministrations and shook his head at the judge's balcony.

'The wood and core do not match, honorable Council,' he reported, bowing so low that the tip of his nose almost touched the ground. 'This is most certainly not the wand.'

Again, the members of the Wizengamot and crowd alike were muttering. Some looked annoyed, others disbelieving. Maria let out a sigh of relief at being exonerated; even she was unaware of what it was from. She would pose questions later, demand answers from Derwent, but for now Maria found she could stand a little straighter, boasting higher levels of assurance.

She took her wand from the Ministry worker and tucked it safely inside her robes, tapping her heel impatiently on the floor as she looked up.

'Miss Cooper,' Shacklebolt addressed her again. 'Does the Wizengamot have your word that you remained unaware of these book's authentic origins?'

Maria nodded strongly. She could hear the goblin's complaints and rough words. From the corner of her eye, she saw Proudfoot's back turned to her and his wand half-raised.

Shacklebolt exchanged a look with Derwent. 'The Wizengamot will discuss this matter further. Should your testimony prove consequential, the Council may be prepared to order your immediate acquittal from the primary stages of this case, and it shall bear no consequence on the matter of your work as a Ministry employee or otherwise –'

All of a sudden, Maria jumped at the guttural roar coming from the goblin side, clutching the handle of her wand in a strong grip. The courtroom was a mess; she stared, wide eyed and horrified, at the face of one of the goblins twisted into an ugly scowl. In his fury, the goblin had tried to climb the rails, but two Aurors caught him in mid leap and kept his body in a secure grip.

Maria gulped, tensing at the murderous expression in the goblin's eyes.

'To blazes with wand-carriers!' shouted the goblin. Maria noted his rising colour as he was further pressed down on a board-like position, and his wrath was such that she feared his eyes would pop out of their sockets. Behind him, a dozen other goblins raised their fists and screamed horrible words in a strangled language Maria recognized as Gobbledegook.

'The session is adjourned, please clear the Courtroom,' Shacklebolt banged down his gavel one last time and, with a quick glance at Proudfoot, the latter gestured for a few of the Aurors to usher the non-goblin crowd out of the chamber.

Maria sprung to her feet, unsure whether she should be among the ones leaving, or if something else would be required of her, when she was still struggling with feelings of shock and relief. Nobody seemed to be paying her the slightest bit of attention except Derwent, and she was unconvinced that he, of all people, would be so kind as to give her directions.

'Maria?' she stiffened, feeling her father's large hand on her shoulder.

'Can we leave now?' she pleaded, clutching his arm for dear life as more goblins tried to climb the rails. The Aurors were having a hard time containing the furious creatures without resorting to defensive spells. 'Please.'

'Of course, let's go,' her father put an arm around her shoulders and together they turned towards the exit with haste.

As they neared the great doors, Maria risked a glance behind her shoulder: she saw the same goblin as before glaring in her direction with his slanting black eyes, a lone, quiet figure among the rest of his kin. The sight of this goblin filled Maria with dread, and she couldn't shake the feeling that something would go wrong soon.

Outside the chamber, the crowd was dispersing to the higher floors, which left only a handful of people and a few Aurors around. Maria still clutched her wand, eyeing the surroundings suspiciously.

'Stay here, I'll be back shortly,' her father said once they were outside, turning back towards the Courtroom.

'Wait, where are you going? Why are you going back _there_?' she spluttered, grabbing one of his sleeves.

Her father's brows were furrowed and he seemed to be considering something. He then looked beyond Maria's shoulder, jaw clenched, before gently disentangling her fingers from his robes. 'You'll be safe here, Maria,' he said, sotto voce. 'There are plenty of Aurors guarding the area, and I promise that soon we'll be leaving the Ministry.'

Maria gave a weak huff, mind swirling with things to say and questions of her own to ask.

'Go on, then,' she finally acquiesced, one hand fiddling with her pockets, the other now less tight around her wand. 'And don't take long, mind you; I'd like to go home before my skin gets wrinkled.'

Much to Maria's disappointment, her father nodded absently before pressing a kiss on her forehead, and then broke into a very fast walk to the Courtroom. The great doors closed behind him, leaving Maria apprehensive, wondering about what to do in the meantime.

She swore louder than intended, startling a nearby Auror, who sent a disapproving glare in her direction. Swirling round, she almost collided with a lean, delicate figure dressed in elegant silver robes, and looked into the bothered face of Daphne Greengrass.

'Y- you -!' Maria hissed, snarling at the sight of a small leather pouch resting against her friend's waist. She poked Daphne's shoulder angrily, paying no mind to her bewildered frown. 'You were supposed to be here an hour ago!'

'Well, I'm sorry, but I had a rough time getting into the lower levels without an army of Aurors trying to bar my _entrance_ ,' Daphne said haughtily. 'That Dawlish fellow almost hexed me. Twice! Had to rely on Potter's interference to convince the snot we've been friends since Hogwarts.'

Maria sniffed, retracting slightly from Daphne's personal space. 'Golden Boy Potter vouched for you?' she ignored the same Auror from before, who was now shaking his head at their bad-mouthing. 'My, that's a first.'

'Indeed,' Daphne drawled. 'Let's sit over there, shall we?'

Maria gave a perhaps too firm a nod. Both witches crossed the dimly lit hallway and sat on the same bench she had been crying before the hearing, making sure they were away from hearing range, half-hidden in the shadows. Once they were settled, Maria let out a great breath and leaned back against the stone wall, looking up at the ceiling.

'They changed the time of the hearing,' she said after a short silence. 'But you probably knew this, anyway.'

Daphne nodded, mirroring her position.

'How did it go? The trial, I mean' she added, when Maria threw her an exasperated glance. 'You were there at least half an hour.'

'Sod off, you old hag,' said Maria, snarling at the short laugh coming from Daphne.

'That bad, I see.'

'T'is not funny,' she pinched her nose in frustration. 'So help me, I never want to go through this again!'

Daphne shrugged. 'At least rejoice that it's over, for now. I heard some very disturbing things in the Atrium, concerning goblins…' she lowered her voice to a whisper, eying the long hallways with distrust. 'Some bloke from the Prophet confided in me that a small group was allowed to watch the trials, as to identify the mysterious witch or wizard to whom Bagman is said to have given the four books -'

Maria snapped from her reverie instantly. 'What do you mean? Who exactly told you that?'

'A reporter, though I've quite forgotten his name,' said Daphne, mildly surprised. 'The Ministry doesn't want this to come to public, but I'm amazed your father didn't tell you about it. Word is, out of four, the goblins managed to sneak back two books during the raid at Flourish & Blotts, and the Ministry later managed to confiscate the remaining from their slimy grasp. The Goblin Liaison Department was heavily involved.'

'So that _may_ be why they asked for my wand…' Maria absently played with a curl from Daphne's hair. She had learned it wouldn't do to pry on Daphne's ploys if they proved beneficial to her cause, but now an ominous thought was starting to take shape in her mind. She bit her lip, glancing at the great doors. 'Daphne, do you know what happened to the other two books?'

'Only that one went missing about two weeks ago. Why?' Daphne leaned forward until her head almost touched Maria's. 'What sort of foul play do you suspect?'

Maria's brow furrowed. 'I'm not sure, but I think there's more to this than simple theft. What're you willing to bet that these fiends are members of the _Brotherhood of Goblins_? '

'The little gits!' hissed Daphne, suddenly turning stiff. 'That would make sense, but the implications are… bothersome, to say the least. Though it would explain why the Ministry's trying to do everything within their reach to appease them. Remember the Chipping Clodbury riot?'

Maria nodded darkly. 'They're beyond mad, Daphne,' she whispered. 'You didn't see them inside the Courtroom, some were borderline violent -'

Both witches turned their head towards the great doors wrenching open. They shared a concerned look, as Derwent, still wearing his formal robes, and Maria's father came into the hallway, deep in argument. Maria was taken by complete surprise; her father didn't seem to notice her, and neither did Derwent, who dismissed the two Aurors near the entrance with an annoyed wave. She remained sitting next to Daphne, the two of them observing as the wizards got closer, slowly coming within their hearing range.

'… _don't understand what's written_ …'

' _Bloody goblins!_ '

Maria stared wide-eyed at her father's snarl, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed. Daphne sat very still, listening with rapt attention.

'We should keep it longer still,' insisted Derwent, looking every bit as an oversized vulture as he hunched forward. 'Shacklebolt will see reason; we're on the brink of discovery!'

' _I will not endanger my own daughter over a book!_ ' her father hissed angrily. Maria felt her blood curl at these words.

'The girl's in no danger, Cooper! I'll set Proudfoot in charge of her safety until this matter is dealt with if it eases your mind, _but will you too_ _see reason_!' Derwent grabbed her father's arm in a firm grip, raising his chin defiantly. 'Every Unspeakable on the case reported that these books could be the key to explain the origin of magic as we know it, even the universe!'

Her father almost shoved the old man backwards in a fit of fury, wrenching free from his grasp. 'You're far too old to believe such nonsense,' he spat, vicious and fierce. 'The world has simply not been remade, that is idle gibberish and I will not be ensnared by the words of wizards whose wits have been addled by -'

'Elves that were once tall and magnificent, a song to create the material _universe_ -'

'- there is no _Music of Ainur_. T'is but a romantic notion from olden times, and even if a fraction of that translation was proved true, I'd never risk _my daughter's safety_!'

The two wizards faced each other, both sporting magnificent scowls in a show of dominance that rendered Maria fearful of the outcome. She almost gasped in fright when Daphne's fingers interlaced with her own in a reassuring grasp.

'Is that your final word?' snapped Derwent.

Her father glared. Maria knew from experience that there wasn't much Derwent could do to change his mind once he was set in his ways, jaw and shoulders squared and nostrils flaring as if he was prepared to expel fire.

'Yes,' he growled, and the silence that followed between the two wizards was heavy with mutual dislike.

'Er,' said Maria to announce her presence. Daphne, on the other hand, made no mention to help.

Derwent looked around at her, an ugly flush suffusing his pale, wrinkled face, but before he could properly reproach her for eavesdropping, the great doors opened again: in a kind of terrifying procession, the goblins marched out of the Council chamber, flanked from every side by at least two Aurors. Proudfoot stood at the front, only slightly less disgruntled than his peers – and the goblins themselves.

'It's time,' he said gravelly to Derwent, glancing at where Maria and Daphne sat, transfixed.

Derwent gave a sharp nod. He did not seem at all pleased. 'Very well. Cooper?'

Maria's father blinked, mimicking Derwent's nod. 'Yes, yes, of course,' he then turned to Maria and crossed the hallway until he stood in front of the two witches, ignoring Daphne. 'Fifteen minutes, and then we're off.'

'Alright,' she risked a glance at the goblins, shuddering at their black, slanted eyes glaring in her direction. 'Will you be safe?'

Her father smiled. 'Yes, my dear,' he rubbed her shoulder in a soothing gesture. 'Wait in my office, Miss Granger will be expecting you. We won't be long.'

Maria gulped, watching the strange parade cross the hallways, until goblins and wizards alike disappeared around the corner. They were alone, save for two Aurors roaming the premises, likely waiting for the members of the Wizengamot or the Minister himself. It struck her that Daphne had been silent for a while – in fact, speechless would be a better word. Even Maria was having some difficulty in wrapping up what she'd heard.

Nostrils flaring, Maria tapped her foot. A dark look crossed her features, and she half-turned her head, addressing Daphne without hesitation.

'What was that about?' she snapped.

'No idea,' said Daphne in a small voice, marching over to Maria. 'But something tells me a few people will be in an awful lot of trouble, soon. If Derwent was telling the truth, then the wizards should have these books, not the goblins. It's almost offensive.'

Maria groaned.

'To blazes with this _Music of Ainur_ nonsense,' Maria mimicked Derwent's awed tone. Both witches marched towards the stairs. 'The world being remade,' she scoffed. 'What does he mean, the Unspeakables _translated_ the book?' she lowered her voice, eyes narrowed. 'At least one of the bloody things was written in Archaic English, not in some ruddy grammatical puzzle!'

Daphne gave her hand a light squeeze. 'Apparently you saw wrong.'

'I most certainly did not,' huffed Maria. 'But that parchment wasn't written in any sensible language.'

'A pity that your father burned it,' Daphne whispered, and her eyes seemed to gleam in the gloom. 'Though that was a very interesting conversation. Very interesting _indeed_. I wonder if the Unspeakables could've translated it.'

They walked in silence until Maria sighed, climbing the stairs in a lazy pace.

'Let's just go. I'm sure Granger will be delighted to see both of us,' she drawled, and yet again her hand was inside her pocket. 'Maybe she's also conspiring to sacrifice me to the goblins, wouldn't surprise me-'

She stopped on her tracks. For the second time that day, Maria suppressed a scream.

She watched a foot on a black boot trembling on the floor. Upon a closer look, before them sprawled on a pool of his own blood was Dawlish. Daphne was the first to recover from the shock and was upon him faster than Maria, who was standing motionless on top of the stairs, openmouthed and staring. She gasped as the Auror coughed, trying to make sense of something.

'Help me!' snapped Daphne, gesturing for Maria.

Her jaw no longer dropped, Maria kneeled behind Dawlish's head, avoiding the blood on the floor. She then bent over him, cringing at the deep gashes on his stomach and legs, where the blood was wettest and darkest. There was no one around except the three of them. However, if she ignored Daphne's mumbling and Dawlish's heavy breathing, Maria believed she heard a _bang_ coming from behind.

'Did you hear that?'

'What -'

' _They have wands_ -' Dawlish croaked, his eyes unfocused and staring at the ceiling. The grayish white of his face stood out against the black floor. ' _Goblins_ -'

Maria's heart stopped. Before she could say something, Daphne sent a small flask her way; it was filled with a brown liquid that she recognized as Essence of Dittany, and quickly began applying it to the shallower cuts.

'How did the goblins get their slimy paws on _wands_?' cried Maria. Her eyes fastened upon the more serious wounds Daphne expertly tended, hands shaking at the sight of blood drenching the whole of the Auror's left side. Greenish smoke billowed upwards where the dittany touched the skin, and when it had cleared Maria almost sighed in relief that the bleeding had stopped. Some of the wounds now looked several days old, though a few were quick to turn into an angry red.

Daphne's lips were pressed into a thin line. 'That means we were right; that _was_ the Brotherhood of Goblins -'

'Is he bleeding on the _inside_?' Maria gasped, eyes widening at the new stretched skin bursting open, oozing freely again. 'The wounds are too deep!'

'This man needs to be taken to St. Mungo's immediately,' Daphne pressed a cloth soaked in a slimy substance on his abdomen, in a hopeless attempt to stop the blood. Her purse lay on the floor, half-open next to her soaked silver robes, turned red from the hem to the waist. 'Stay here with him; I'll go call someone -'

'Did you hear something? _Anything_?' Maria asked in stupid desperation, and her eyes drifted from Dawlish's stirring figure to a slightly ajar door at the end of the hallway. Bloody footprints stained the floor, coming from ahead. 'Where are the others? Where is my _father_?'

Daphne, who seemed to have sensed her intentions, gave her a warning glare. 'Stay here! We'll figure that out later, but, please, Maria,' she rose to her feet. ' _Wait!_ ' With one last frown at the door, she ran down the stairs.

Dismissing her friend's advice, Maria turned her attention to Dawlish as soon as Daphne vanished, and squeezed his injured shoulder. The Auror cried out in pain, but his widening eyes found Maria's when she seized the front of his robes.

'Where did they go?' she hissed, teeth clenched as she stared down at the Auror. 'Tell me!'

A feeble, rasping noise issued from Dawlish's throat.

'Veil… _goblins_ …'

'The Death Chamber?' breathed Maria, and her own eyes widened as she gazed again upon the door. This chamber was one of the best kept secrets in the Ministry, which meant everyone had at least heard rumors about its existence. 'Are you sure? Is my father there too?'

Dawlish nodded, and though the movement was almost imperceptible, he managed to get a loose grip on Maria's robes before she rose. 'Stay -' he croaked, trying to pull her down. The blood on his stomach was flowing freely, leaving a large pool of blood on the floor. ' _Don't_ … _leave_ …me -'

'You'll be fine,' said Maria coldly, not believing her own lie. She could hear someone hurrying up the stairs, along with multiple voices.

With an abrupt gesture, she wrenched free from Dawlish's grasp and lunged for Daphne's purse, before breaking into a halt. Maybe it prove necessary, and her priority certainly wasn't one unknown Auror to whom she shared no relation.

She sprinted towards the door, half bothered that it swung open as she ran forward, and stopped inside a circular room. _Everything here was black including the floor and the ceiling – identical, unmarked handle-less doors were sat at intervals all around the black walls. The only light came from candles whose flame burned blue, their shimmering glow reflected in the shinning marble floor._ Maria moved her feet uncertainly; it looked as though there was dark water underfoot.

The blood had turned from red to purple under the blue candle light, but the trail continued straight ahead into another room. As she gazed down at the floor, Maria noticed another pair of footprints, reasoning that these were too small to belong to a full-grown wizard. Even if she hadn't noticed them, it would be impossible to ignore the spells – blue, red, _green_ , she gulped – flying from wizards and goblins alike.

'Father,' she whimpered, running for cover behind the black door that had been left wide open. Maria made a disgusted face after touching the handle: it was coated in blood. Perhaps this was where Dawlish had fallen -

Maria held her breath.

There he was, fighting three goblins, two of which had acquired wands, firing spells from his wand as he backed further into the stone pit, still shouting to the few Aurors left standing. Maria could see five short bodies below, motionless against the steep stone steps – whether dead or alive, she wasn't sure. They were ironically outnumbered, or so she thought but, upon a closer peek, she saw many fallen wizards on the ground: most were still stirring, some knocked unconscious, but there was no blatant sign of blood, and Maria was unsure if the goblins could manage a full killing curse.

Still hidden, Maria saw Derwent bring down two goblins; the undersized little gits had been hacking and stabbing the old wizard's ankles, their faces alive with malice even in defeat. It brought a smirk to her face because even if Maria detested Derwent, then she had quickly grown to abhor goblins.

As Derwent swirled round, she saw a large tome bound in blue, clutched under long Wizengamot robes and bit her lip: five more goblins climbed the pit, screaming and hacking at whoever crossed them, and made their way to the old wizard. Maria gasped as the old wizard landed on the floor with a _thud_ , but no sooner were Proudfoot and Savage upon him when three more appeared out of nowhere.

No matter how hard she tried, Maria couldn't figure out where the goblins came from, but it seemed most were concealed in the pit or coming from another door. In her hiding spot she was perhaps too out of reach to get a better view, clinging to the shadows like a thief.

Further down the pit, she saw her father in the center of the battle, and he was striking every goblin within reach. Maria whimpered as he got closer and closer to the raised stone dais, and clutched her wand for dear life; she needed a plan, some way to get the upper hand without risking a misplaced jinx.

Maria skulked in the dark room as precious seconds passed, always wavering in her resolve. However, when the opportunity did present itself her attention was diverted as a Killing Curse shot so close to her father that he miraculously missed death by an inch -

These goblins were aiming to kill. A brief glance at Derwent showed a less fierce battle, though out of the two Aurors only Proudfoot stayed unscathed. For some reason, they were circling her father and she saw it was becoming increasingly difficult for him to stand his ground. The goblins seemed tired, though they were not worse for wear like her father whose movements were slower and more contrite. Perhaps it was a side-effect to smoking, or his age had finally caught up, but Maria feared one of them wouldn't return home.

Maria heard footsteps from behind her and turned around, still holding the wand tightly in her hand: Daphne stood at the threshold, breathless and seemingly taken aback by the blood covering the floor and the chaos in front of them.

Both witches stared at each other.

'Maria - _no!_ ' cried Daphne, all of a sudden running forward as Maria lunged into the Death Chamber with surprising swiftness, having made her decision when she saw the two Aurors trailing behind her friend.

And she was off, scrambling down the stone benches. Daphne was shouting behind her, but Maria did not care, aiming curses at the goblin's feet as her father was hit by a spell and fell to his knees –

And suddenly she was in the great stone pit some twenty feet below, her legs sore from running down the steep steps. Only there she noticed that the temperature had dropped, and the more she got closer to the tall archway, the colder the air was. For some reason, she started hearing a faint murmuring.

' _Stupefy!_ ' gasped Maria and a jet of red light hit the nearest goblin; it sent him flying backwards into another group, knocking them over the uneven rocky surface. Another wandless goblin launched himself down the dais at her head, but a well aimed jinx threw him off balance.

'Proudfoot,' she breathed, turning to look at her savior. Directly above her stood the Auror, drawing a helpful hand for her to climb, his face pale and bruised.

He gave Maria a hard stare. 'Miss Cooper,' unveiled concern shone in his eyes. 'There's something you need to know -' the Auror turned swiftly, deflecting a nasty jinx. He was trying to shield her with his body and very much succeeding in this endeavor.

'Later, you daft bat!' she screamed, searching everywhere for her father. Her wits seemed to have left her completely. 'Where is he? _Tell me_!'

It wasn't long until her eyes fell on her father: he was laying on the floor, being circled by two goblins across the room. She gasped when one of them raised a shiny silver dagger in the air, moving closer and closer to their target. Despite her efforts, Proudfoot's bulk was a too solid obstacle. Maria had some difficulty swirling her wand, and it was a challenge to aim at the goblins when in front of her the Auror couldn't stand still.

It crossed her mind to thank him later for his service, even if it was unwanted. His interference was less of a blessing and more of a hindrance to her cause.

Taking advantage of their difference in height, Maria lunged forward, ducking under Proudfoot's right arm. She figured this had been the first time in a very long while that she did something without a fair amount of plotting.

And then many things happened at once.

The goblins were slow; someone had hit them on their short legs, causing a bleeding that prevented them from standing up. Instead they crawled, intent on maiming. She could pull this off. All she needed was a clear shot. However, Maria wasn't sure of how it ensued, but, as she raised her wand, something compact knocked her sideways and she fell with adown with a _thud_.

For a long moment, the chamber was ringing with the blast of curses and the laughter of goblins. She clutched her wand tightly, still dazed at the impact. Behind her, the faint murmuring and whispering became louder. It was uncanny, but Maria had the strangest feeling that someone was standing near, though unreachable.

' _Stupe_ -' she tried to finish the spell, but a red jet of light hit her square in the chest.

' _No_ ,' she breathed, feeling her body being flung backwards into the Veil, eyes widening in shock. The laughter of goblins died, and she stared into the eyes of the creature who had glared at her during the trial, still not knowing where to place him –

Maria could hear someone call her name from afar, but she was sinking, her body curved in a graceful arc. It was oddly relaxing.

During those last moments, it dawned on her that her free hand was again in her pocket. For some remarkable reason, it had inserted itself inside her robes, rummaging through its contents.

And this time, it wasn't empty.

* * *

**Act II: Prologue**

 

* * *

 

 **TA-2941, September 13** **th** **.**

Maria screamed.

She was falling again, the world – or worlds? – rushing past her, everything in between flashed before her eyes in a familiar dread.

And yet again Maria was falling _up_. There wasn't much time to consider the intricacies of her situation. Light and dark merged into a blinding, beaming tongue of everything bright until it was snuffed out.

Then, all she saw was blue.

Suddenly Maria became very aware that gravity had played a trick on her because she was now falling _down_ , arms splayed like a bird, and there was fire and a hissing so powerful that she feared her ears might bleed, beckoning her to come closer –

And then there was green, and that green turned into many solid and painful things, until she collided with the ground, face first.

And then, there was dark.

oooOOOooo

Maria opened her eyes and lay quietly a bit longer, until her she became used to the dimness. There was a sort of darkened green glimmer that didn't sit right with her.

She cautiously felt the surface she was laying on, scratching it with one hand. There were twigs, mud and fallen leaves, their dry texture vexing against her skin. It hurt her for some reason, and a brief check showed numerous scratches on her hands, no doubt a consequence of falling.

There was a ringing in her ears that lessened gradually. After a while, she couldn't pick up anything but a soft rustling and a special kind of silence, the type that comes after an unpleasant noise. Her nose reported earthly humidity, crisp and cold at the same time. Not good.

She spluttered something disgusting, horrified that it was mixed with her blood. Her fingers sought out her wand and she squeezed it for comfort as she propped herself to her knees. Details began to distil out of the blur, and Maria's gaze swept across the forest-floor, widening at the matted twigs and tangled boughs upwards where a beam of sun slipped through an opening large enough for someone her size –

 _Oh_.

Kneeling on a bed of piled leaves and other dirty, unmentionable droppings, Maria heaved and whimpered, trying to remember what happened in the Ministry.

'No,' she mumbled, though it was more of a wrecked sob. A little further, where the light of the sun faded, was a small parchment bathed in golden light. Maria crawled in haste, breath hitched when her skinned knees scratched the ground; her robes were torn beyond repair, the once light green velvet turned into a brown-ish and filthy colour.

'No, no, no, _no_!'

A horrible whimper escaped her lips as she stared at the delicate letterings, her racking sobs echoing in the gloom. Maria stashed the thing into one of her pockets, hot torrents of despair trickling down her cold cheeks. What was happening? Where was her father?

She ignored the queer noises and kept wailing, burying her face in her hands. Something scuffled nearby, hurrying among the leaves though it did not dare show itself in daylight.

It took her a while to calm down, but eventually Maria took a deep breath and looked up at the tall trees, cursing her luck.

Where was this? She wondered if the goblins had hit her with an unknown curse, forcing her to hallucinate. Perhaps they had taken her to the Forbidden Forest that bordered the edges to the grounds of Hogwarts, but how exactly could they managed such a thing? Maria remembered being hit by a spell, flown backwards and –

She froze. One of the goblins had pushed her to the Veil?

Maria shook her head and a few misplaced leaves fell on the ground. If she remembered correctly, the Veil was supposed to symbolize Death, or rather, anyone foolish enough to try and cross it would die. Logically, she couldn't be dead. In fact, she thought with a grimace, she felt very much alive.

She stood up, feeling a light weight against her thigh: Daphne's purse was still with her.

And she had felt something in her pocket; the parchment was still with her. That was impossible, her father had burned it –

Maria gulped. A single tear fell from her eye, as she remembered her father's unconscious body surrounded by goblins. Had he been killed? She didn't want to think about such a tragic outcome at the moment.

Was this all in her mind?

'Best to get out of here,' she mumbled to herself, cleaning snivel on her robes. She was still clutching her wand tightly, glancing around at the silent forest with fearful eyes. This didn't look at all like the Forbidden Forest.

Maria raised her wand. ' _Lumos_ ,' she said the spell automatically, desperate for light to help her in her search of a way out. Her stomach turned over at the dark, dense cobwebs, stretching from tree to tree in threads so thick she was disgusted just to look at them. There would be trouble afoot.

With one step at the time, limping from the fall, Maria marched slowly towards a narrow path ahead careful not to make noise. Her sniveling was enough to cause attention in the dark gloom, and she felt odd as if being observed from above.

Minutes later, she screamed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **IMPORTANT NOTE**  
>  The Middle Earth arch is set during Thorin's quest to Erebor, in the Third Age 2941 (September 13th). This means the Company has already left Beorn's house and set out to Mirkwood.  
> I'm very sorry for the delay. However, due to stress factors I came down with some mean health issues that prevented me from writing (or doing much at all) and stayed mostly bed-ridden until two weeks ago. Since everything's mostly alright, the next updates will be faster.
> 
> So, we're finally in Middle Earth! Poor Maria, I cringed while imagining what will happen next; the spiders were definitely never my favorite part of The Hobbit, but I took the liberty of playing with dates and it made sense that she'd end up during this part of the story. Can't wait until she interacts with ME characters!
> 
> Any edits will be announced, so check the chapter regularly in case something changes during the next days. See you in a few weeks!
> 
> Next chapter: 9 or 10th of November.


	9. Act II - Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The start of an unexpected interference.

**Chapter Nine: The Lost King**

" _Little by little, one travels far."_  
― J.R.R. Tolkien

 

 

* * *

 

' _Arania Exumai!_ '

Trees and cobwebs alike shook as a bang echoed through the forest. From above fell a great spider, its legs stirring as it propped itself from the ground, but a second bang and a burst of green rendered it unmoving. Broken bogs and twigs littered round the creature. The dry, crunching noise of the fall had kindled unwanted attention from atop the branches, and several foul things scurried and jumped from tree to tree. There was a sharp hissing coming from all directions, a sort of thin creaking that quickly multiplied into an enraged chanting.

Maria fled, deflecting long threads flung her way with surprising swiftness. The path behind seemed full of waving snares that veiled half a dozen hairy bodies with a translucent glimmer.

Further ahead was light; not slender as the beams from where Maria had fallen through, but as the trees became less strangled and the ground more even, she saw a sunbathed glade. Like the stuffy woods, there was a sickly feel to it. As she closed the distance, Maria noticed the diminishing amount of cobwebs, feeling a surge of relief. The foul things were not as tangled as before, but thinner and easy to destroy by meager spells. She started firing curses over her head, grimacing at the striking pain in her leg. Briefly, she considered burning down everything in her path, – a purge of sorts – and there was a desperate ferocity in this thought that fueled her flight.

' _Avis! Oppugno!_ ' she cried, changing direction briskly when a spider landed before her, blocking her path. A flock of birds emerged from Maria's wand and sped like a hail of fat golden bullets towards the spider, pecking and clawing at every bit of dark, hairy flesh they could reach. It went mad, flaying and leaping in horrible jerks until it fell and curled on the floor; the spider was clearly not used to its prey fighting back.

Then, Maria froze: several pairs of eyes gleamed from the branches right above her head. She whimpered, firing curses as some of the creatures descended on thick threads as if to flank her, petrifying and throwing back the nearest. The hissing became louder, and if Maria didn't know better she would've assumed the things were communicating with each other.

Maria swirled, wincing in pain: ' _Immobulus!_ ' Half a dozen spiders froze in mid-movement, one pointing its sting at Maria's back. Her eyes widened, but she quickly made to move forward and avoid the hairy creatures, wand raised to keep up the spell.

Roots and stumps hindered her way, barely visible beneath the undergrowth. Her whole body was in pain from the fall. Each step was a challenge; her chest heaved from the effort and her face glistened with sweat, and Maria narrowly avoided tripping on more than one occasion. Eventually she tore the hem of her robes, as the fabric got snagged on low-slung branches and brambles.

She limped, almost dragging her leg through the foliage in the haste of running away. More spiders came down from the trees, though they didn't venture too close now that the sunlight was stronger. Most stayed behind or hidden in the upper branches, and Maria breathed a sigh of relief once she reached the clearing. There were ruins ahead; perhaps she wasn't so far away from her people -

' _Reducto, Diffindo, Baubillious!_ ' she screamed madly, pointing her wand at the gleaming eyes once there was a considerable distance between herself and the dark forest. Sparks flew from the tip, bringing down and destroying the spiders with a bang. The last spell produced a bolt of white light that flew between the trees and flashed the dark creatures. Maria closed her eyes tightly, raising her arms in protection of the blinding light.

Atop the trees a flock of birds flew away, alarmed by the loud crashing of Maria's hexes. She faltered, falling on her knees as tears streamed down her cheeks, and stared after the remaining spiders scurrying back into the depths of the forest.

It was oddly quiet for a while. There was no wind at all, not even a soft breeze rustling through the grass. Even the birds had gone, though their bill clacks still rang in Maria's ears. It was as if the world had stopped spinning and time had frozen, leaving her as the only living thing in an otherwise dead place.

Maria was sore and exhausted; her lips were cold and numb, and she let out a noise that might've been a dry sob before breaking into a storm of crying, face buried in her hands.

'Da,' Maria rasped, voice trembling with sobs as she rocked back and forth on the ground, unable to control the strong wailing that rendered her mind and body hollowed and her throat chocked up. She felt like she had been whiplashed, her stomach turning with nausea at the idea that her father might be dead –

'No, no, no, no,' she whimpered, trying blocking these horrible thoughts, as if denial would help her cause. One of the foul spiders watched her from the dark forest, but Maria felt she didn't have any strength left to blast more of them to oblivion, slumped as she was and wallowing in grief.

Time passed. The silence and stillness in the clearing was only broken by Maria's hysterics, though they too subsided. When she finally collected herself, she noticed that nothing moved around her anymore, – a most welcome prospect, of course – but this meant Maria was alone in an unknown place. She stared around at the gloomy forest and even gloomier ruins, breathing quickly, trying not to think. But she had to think, there was no escape…

White-hot anger leapt inside her. This was all Derwent's fault, there was no other explanation. Hell had broken loose in the Department of Mysteries because that old coffin-dodger endangered everyone for a bloody book –

If she hadn't been stupid enough to fall for his schemes, then her father wouldn't have fallen in battle with those beastly goblins. Maybe she could've saved him, but something happened, and she couldn't remember if the goblin had struck her with a spell first or knocked her like a ragdoll, but she had fallen – or floated? – straight into the bloody Veil.

Wincing from the pain, she cleaned some blood: the cuts didn't seem too deep, at least. The left side of her face, from temple to chin, however, felt sore and was likely to bruise. Maria hoped her father didn't suffer any lasting damage, wished for him to be safe. She would blame Proudfoot to the end of her days if he didn't save him when she could not.

Maria hesitated before taking the parchment out of her robes, and stared at it with glassy eyes, absently basking on the grainy texture against her skin. It was exactly as she remembered: an easy to fold piece, likely a small section of a larger roll so fragile that she had wondered how the letterings didn't wither. Of course, the most pressing question wasn't how the parchment survived so far, but rather what sort of charm had been placed upon it, so that it came back after she –

Had she died? Was this all real or was it happening inside her head?

Two weeks ago, the thing had burned rather quickly, until there was nothing left but ashes in the fireplace. She was sure of this; at least two people had witnessed how the flames happily licked the parchment, bending it over dry wood until all that remained of it was left in a pile. Her father – she sobbed harder – insisted there should be no connection between her and the books. His reproaching – a mix of concern and high levels of stress – sounded terribly agreeable at the moment.

Later, Daphne had emerged once her father left in a hurry, insisting she was needed there instead of going elsewhere and call it a night. The other witch's presence had been a blessing –

Maria's eyes widened, gripping worn leather with her free hand. She had Daphne's _purse_. Another blessing in disguise and very much a chance that fate had bestowed upon her, because the second Maria shoved her hand inside – the parchment again kept safe in her pocket – she almost squealed in delight when her fingers found the unmistakable outlines of a broom.

'Daphne, you're a life savior,' mumbled Maria, tears welling up again in her eyes.

Further searching brought upon her notice that the foul box of human eyelids was still there, along with several books and vials that she had never seen before. She briefly wondered how Daphne had come by all these trinkets, particularly a few of the most repulsive potions she had ever laid her eyes on, bubbling oddly in dark colours. With some luck, having this in her possession would suit her.

Maria didn't dare to take it all out in the open, squinting at the dark interior of Daphne's purse as she rummaged aimlessly in desperation. The broom, an outdated Nimbus 2001, lay beside her on the grass. Maria almost snorted at the ill-kept tail, where twigs stuck out from lack of clipping and tending.

Anxiety faded abruptly into an icy shock as a shiver ran up her spine. Maria turned around, glancing around with wide eyes at the quiet glade, half-expecting to see more spiders venturing in the open. Once again, there was no one near, nor any sign of a rescue –

But she barely had time to finish the thought before her eyes were dragged to the ruins and she gripped her wand tightly, frowning at the decaying walls with her jaw clenched shut.

It wasn't the woods that unsettled her anymore. The huge and decaying castle set on top of a hill was eerily ominous, as if something dreadful had lurked – or still did – nearby. It was only a short walk, about five minutes with a limp, but while something urged her to be cautious, she was also drawn to the ruins.

Maria shuddered; she remembered falling from the sky and a hissing that clove the world asunder. She had seen fire or, perhaps, something _on_ fire that felt unnatural during the briefest of seconds; if she concentrated, Maria could feel a tingling in her body indicating the presence of a strong magic. Closing her eyes, she shivered again, as if someone had thrown a bucket of cold water down her back.

Maria shook her head to break out of the sudden daze, breath hitched in her throat. She lunged for the broom at once, frightened to even give the ruins a second glance. After many clumsy attempts, she mounted the broomstick without sliding off the end and checked for any misplaced items. She had to get away at once. The parchment was still within her person and so was her wand. Daphne's purse – _her_ purse as of now – was firmly strapped over her robes –

There was someone in the ruins.

It had been just a glimpse, a final moment of curiosity that made Maria look over her shoulder. Perhaps it lasted longer than it should, as if some magic drew her to the terrible place without her consent, but one glance was all it took. She spluttered, turning around gracelessly in the air and squinting at the broken stone walls where a shaded figure stood moments ago before vanishing.

' _Wait_!' Maria cried, throwing caution to the wind as she kicked off the ground hard towards an old bridge. 'Come back!'

Up, up she soared, air rushing through her hair and her robes whipped out behind her. The closer she got to the ruins, the more fearful she felt for some reason. Perhaps a lone wizard lived here, concealed this place's true form so he didn't have to be bothered with Muggles. However, there was something she couldn't quite pin down, and despite the fact that there was a fabulous Concealment Charm over the ruins, something was very _wrong_. Even all the charms placed to secure Hogwarts didn't get on her nerves like this. It was almost as if a wild magic lingered in the air.

This place was no home to non-magical folk.

'Excuse me _,_ ' Maria called, voice loud and clear despite the trembling. She landed on a bridge, outside what must've once been a gate, before time and nature had claimed it. The trees had uprooted most of the stone, twisting and swirling where they shouldn't, naked and sickly. She risked a glance below and gulped; falling would be the death of her, with or without a wand.

Maria took one step forward, grimacing at the pain in her leg.

'Please, I need help,' Maria took out her wand, in case something foul crossed her way again. 'I know you're there, I _saw_ you. It's bad manners to -'

Maria screamed, dropping the broom on the ground with a loud noise. Hiding behind a great pile of rocks was an elderly man, his mane as wild as his torn clothes, and he looked deranged, possibly dangerous. Upon being found, he fled further inside the ruins through a large stone passage, swift as a shadow. The sound of bare feet echoed, leaving a ringing in her ears.

' _Wait_!' Maria cried again, this time the tremor in her voice obvious. She took one step back, gripping her wand tightly with her right hand. 'I won't hurt you, just - I -'

Maria whimpered something unintelligible, torn between going after the man and flying away from the ruins. Her hands trembled; this was a very odd and frightening situation that she had gotten herself into. If falling into the Veil had given her hallucinations, then she'd rather wake up once and for all. Death couldn't be like this; she was living a _nightmare_.

She picked up the broom, storing it back into the purse, eyes darting to the place where the man disappeared. Despite her hysterics, nothing else had come forth and Maria counted herself lucky that the spiders had stayed behind once and for all – or so she hoped.

Weighting her options, she could either wander blindly until someone found it in their heart to help her, or she could try and get some answers from the fellow hiding somewhere ahead.

A nasty thought crossed her mind: it occurred to Maria that she might've crossed the proverbial fourth wall and fallen somewhere that wasn't exactly England. Another explanation consisted on the acknowledgement of her death, and that she was now on some sort of limbo before going into the afterlife.

A sob escaped her quivering lips as an honest dread filled her up, but Maria tried to dismiss it. Before wallowing in self pity, she needed answers.

For the second time in a long while, she did something that wasn't at all planned, knowing full well that in regular circumstances she'd have run away or asked someone else to deal with her problems. However – her breath hitched in her throat again, thinking about the reappearance of the parchment – this wasn't a normal situation. In fact, Maria hoped it wouldn't get even more unusual.

With a groan, Maria raised her wand and marched carefully towards the stone passageway. Her limp was more noticeable after the broom ride; the floor here was not as uneven as it had been in the glade, though fallen stone and rubble covered most of the surface. She almost tripped on serpent-like vines, but quickly learned to spot them, avoiding the thorns.

'What the -'

Maria froze, gaping at the number of cages and skeletons that hung from the walls. She stood at the edge of a platform, transfixed by the morbid scenario around her; she counted at least fifteen cages in this maze of tunnels, some spiked and others empty, though most imprisoned one or two full grown human skeletons.

A noise made her jump: a low growl and the unmistakable sound of metal against metal came from somewhere downwards. Maria's eyes widened, but no sooner she saw a shadow on the wall.

'Hello?' heart beating fast, Maria took one step back. 'Is anyone there?'

She heard the sound of bare feet and hurried steps nearby, and glanced around with her eyes narrowed. Horrible statues hovered over her shoulder, as if preparing to strike. Maria raised her wand defensively, regretting her imprudence. It felt like walking into a trap.

'Look,' she started, glancing around, trying to understand where the footsteps came from. For some reason, the noise seemed to come from everywhere. 'I'm in a bit of a predicament, and I'd really appreciate some help -'

Maria gasped, jumping about twenty feet in the air when she heard a loud crunching noise coming from behind. There was no one there when she turned, but someone had pushed rocks over the passageway, making it impossible to cross. Maria gulped, staring at the blocked path with wide eyes.

'Shit,' she mumbled, giving several steps back. Now would be a wonderful time to fly away from this place.

Maria looked down at her wand, which was still clutched in her hand. She felt a cold breeze, and glanced up at the armed statues in the courtyard. Moments ago, they were facing the other way, she was sure of it –

There he was _again_. She saw the old man clearer now, noticing with unease the bony members hanging almost limply beside a thin torso covered in rags. Maria felt something foreign constrict deep within her chest. The man stared at her, eyes wide with fear, and as before fled surprisingly fast, deeper into the ruins.

'Brilliant,' Maria growled, hurrying to catch up. She felt someone was laughing at her, and that also didn't bode well; she could feel with all certainty that there was a strong magic in the air, the kind that compressed the oxygen in her lungs and made her head feel heavy. ' _Oi_!' she bellowed, desperate. It was as if her wits had left her. ' _OI!_ '

In hindsight, Maria couldn't very well tell why she didn't just fly away and search for help somewhere else. The same thing that drew her there seemed to want to make her stay through fear. Mechanically, Maria checked if the parchment was still inside her robes, sighing in relief when her fingers scraped against it.

Gripping her wand, she stopped inside a narrow passageway, panting. Her leg was very close to giving out, and the pain was such that it almost felt numb. Maria sighed, leaning against the cold stone –

She screamed at the impact of a strong body throwing her off balance. Her wand flew off her hand as she flung out an arm to break her fall, and she landed hard on the ground –

Her brain barely had time to register the disgusting smell filling her nostrils, as Maria fought hard against a man shorter than her, sporting a great grey mane. Thick hair was all she saw, that, and the face of a madman who scratched and tried to bite her face unless she pushed him back, raging against her in a guttural language.

_WHAM!_

Maria kicked the old man square on the stomach and he was thrown off balance, landing flat on his back with a yelp. She whimpered, sore and bruised, and tried to reach for her wand, but it had been flung to the other side of the passageway; she would never get that far unscathed. Her heart was beating fast. Maria felt dizzy from the fall. She tried to leap to her feet and get away, but the pain on her leg had worsened. Crying out, she glanced at the old man and saw him pick up something from the floor –

The parchment.

'Don't!' she shouted, gasping when the old man fell down with a _thud,_ seizing and chocking. The parchment landed softly next to him, and Maria could only gawk, flabbergasted.

Maria took this chance to get her wand, breathing in relief when she saw it wasn't broken. Then, she dragged herself across the floor and sat, leaning against the wall. Her breaths came out raggedly, and she gripped her wand tightly, pointing a trembling hand at the parchment as she uttered an incantation that sent it flying her way.

'What's happening?' she asked stupidly, her whole body trembling from stress; the old man's screams subsided after a while until he stopped stirring altogether. Unable to contain the tears welling up in her eyes, she let them fall down unrestrained. At least the parchment was safe, but Maria kept it inside the purse this time, afraid to look at it after what it had caused.

Suddenly, the man's frail chest puffed as he let out a shuddering breath. He squirmed, mumbling nonsense, unaware that Maria surveyed this terrorizing display with wide eyes.

' _Episkey_ ,'she mumbled, healing her swollen lip with a grimace. The old man hadn't gotten up, instead he lay on the floor panting, – and _crying_? – making no mention to stand. Maria gripped her wand, eyeing his movements through narrowed eyes. A heavy silence, broken only by sobs that were not her own, lingered for a long time.

'I can't believe I'm actually saying this, but other than the obvious,' she sniffled, cleaning a few tears with the back of her hand, 'is everything alright?'

The man didn't answer. He kept sobbing, a pitiful sound in the eerie silence that followed. Maria tensed, hesitating between leaving and trying to help the barmy old coot who just tried to kill her. She took a deep breath; her wand was at the ready for any necessary unpleasantness.

Dragging herself to the old man, Maria stopped halfway; the sobs continued but a pair of blue eyes met hers, and she saw the poor bloke trying to reach for her with a bony hand. She frowned, noticing that the old man's fingers were strangely thick for someone in his condition, and briefly wondered if there had been a time where he didn't look this unhealthy.

In fact, now that she looked closely, one of the old man's blue eyes was glazed, almost shut. Wincing at the realization, she got a little closer, surprised that the man didn't recoil – still, he didn't make an attempt to attack her. He looked like someone who had walked out from a dream.

' _Tharkûn?_ ' he rasped, staring at Maria beseechingly.

Maria hesitated. Her heart thumped inside her chest.

'What?' she frowned harder, hovering over the man, wand at the ready.

The old man babbled something unintelligible. Maria didn't mask her confusion and shook her head, eyebrow almost knitted together in honest perplexity. This rough speech – it was unlike anything she had ever heard.

'I'm sorry, I don't understand. Could you speak a proper language?'

His hand dropped on the hard stone floor with a cracking sound. Maria shuddered at the noise; the old man started crying again, burying his face in his hands. He hadn't moved from the floor, and she saw that one of his fingers was missing. The wound was old and covered in dirt, but Maria couldn't help but to notice that it had healed strangely. Perhaps uneven would be a better word, as the cut seemed to have been quite messy. Unlike a few considerable of Bagman's wounds, this didn't look to have been made by a regular weapon. Had the finger been hacked off?

' _Gad_ ,' he croaked once Maria made mention to get up. After the attack, the old man looked much too vulnerable, as if he was a completely different person.

'Can you speak English?' she inquired slowly. Through watery eyes, the man seemed baffled.

Without warning, he changed into a sitting position and wrapped his arms around Maria, pulling her into an embrace. Startled, Maria almost pulled away, but then stopped and gawked at the shorter man. His shoulders were shaking and he cried into the hollow of her neck, soiling her robes with warm tears.

Maria tensed, staying very still under the stranger's embrace.

'This is going to be bloody marvelous,' she gritted her teeth, raising her head above a grey mane that contained the foul stench of decades without a proper wash. For a brief moment, Maria considered at least lending her robes; the sky had darkened and a bitter wind gushed through broken walls. Soon, they would be faced with a chilly night -

Maria closed her eyes, silently cursing her thoughts. This had all been for naught, the man couldn't help her. Was he completely mad, or had she really landed in the strangest of places? Maria gave him another once over, considering his poorly clad body with pity. 'Are you going to attack me again?' she added after a while, gripping her wand tighter in frustration.

The man leaned back, puzzled, his tear stained face contemplating hers sadly. There was something else in his eyes, a glimmer of hope that made Maria squirm and avert his gaze. She didn't understand why, but it had suddenly become unbearable to look at him.

Finally, he let go. With no small amount of effort, the old man got to his feet all the while clutching his stomach. Maria watched apprehensively, feeling a rush of regret.

'Sorry about that,' she mumbled, also getting up to her feet. They stood in silence for a moment, each taking the other's appearance: the old man stood as upright as he could, looking at her with curiosity, eyes darting between her face and wand. At this, Maria gave her wand a little wave to heal some of his cuts, but the old man instantly recoiled in fear.

Maria raised both her hands in a gesture of peace.

'Are you a Muggle?' she inquired. He didn't seem magical, but more of a beggar or a madman living in an abandoned place. On the other hand, this place reeked of magic, and the parchment – she cringed, rummaging through her pocket – seemed to be of a similar kind.

But it had _done_ something, perhaps healed the old man of his madness? Maria wasn't sure, though she wondered if he had been plagued by some dark spell. Taking into account the odd situation she found herself in, Maria wasn't sure what to believe, but then again, probably neither did this person. They couldn't understand each other, no matter how hard she tried.

'Yes, yes I know,' she dismissed his frantic gestures with a wave. 'Either you can't answer me or it follows that you _don't_ want to, but I'd really appreciate some help -'

Maria froze. The old man stared at someone – or something? - behind her with wide eyes, transfixed in fear. Slowly, she turned around.

' _Petrificus Totalus!_ '

The spell hit a horrible creature, and it toppled backwards across the air, lying on the hard stone floor rigid as a board and unable to move. Maria stood for a second longer than she should, gawking at the heavy mace that was no doubt meant for her head and at the disgusting arm attached, penetrated with metal armor on black skin.

Maria jumped when a strong hand seized her, yelping in fright with her wand ready to strike. She stopped in mid-movement at the sight of the old man who whimpered again, trying to drag her away.

'What -'

Not sure what to do, Maria let herself be dragged through a narrow passage until they reached a small courtyard deeper within the ruins. Once there, she fell on the floor, refusing to walk despite the old man's hysterical attempts to get her up. Her bad leg was hurting; without treatment she'd be useless and a dead-weight before they were able to leave this foul place –

'Hold it!' she cried, taking the broom out of Daphne's purse. Even with her bad leg, she could still fly and run away.

The old man gave one step back, pointing and gasping at the broomstick; he was certainly rather baffled that the small purse could have an object bigger than its container, as most non-magical beings would be. Maria wondered if she had fallen into a Medieval Era inside her subconscious, where magic was feared and magical users burned for ridiculous crimes; that would explain the sudden fear for her trinkets. On the other hand, the old man didn't seem to mind she had taken out the horrible creature; he seemed pleasantly surprised despite the following events. Maybe they tormented him here? This left the question of why exactly he chose to stay.

Suddenly, Maria gazed over his shoulder: at least five of those horrible creatures emerged from another passageway, screaming and shouting in a tongue so foul that she had a hard time bearing it. The old man followed her gaze, cowering at the sight of the small army coming towards them.

' _Bombarda_!' she screamed, raising her wand. The spell caused a small, but effective explosion: the creatures fell to the ground, screeching in pain as Maria tried to mount the broomstick in haste.

She looked at the old man: he was staring at her with expectation though there was also fear, but whether it was of her or the creatures coming after them, Maria couldn't be sure. However, she could feel something concealed, slithering through the air, coming towards them. The ruins were infested with magic, and now that she stood in the eye of the storm, Maria could feel its massive weight. This was a darker magic that she had never felt before.

Taking a deep breath, Maria pointed her wand at the air and cried: ' _Finite Incantatem_!'

Immediately, there was a breach in the space around her. She looked around fearfully, as parts of the air started wrinkling and rippling, as if the very fabric of space and time had been ripped. Both Maria and the old man ventured a glance at the otherworldly gashes, gasping at the monstrous show of terror and violence below.

'Hop on, you sodding old git!' Maria yelped, unable to tear her gaze away from the grotesque creatures and giant wolves. She didn't dare try breaking again whatever spell had been placed upon the ruins; this strange magic was much too strong for hers to beat. Her only intention was to leave and stay far away, never to return here again. 'Do you want to _die_?' she added, frenzied by the old man's lack of reaction. He seemed paralyzed, mumbling and shaking his head.

Maria groaned, making room for him on the broom. For all she cared he could have the whole cushioned seat; anything else would hurt him far more than it would her. 'Come along!'

Even when every sensible bone in her body told Maria that she would be better off alone, her immediate reaction was to grab the old man's wrist and pull him towards her. He jerked out of her grasp, staring at her with wide eyes.

' _Get on the broom, get on the_ bloody _broom!_ ' she screamed, kicking a few inches off the ground. Much to her relief, he seemed to understand, gaping at this unknown magic. However, as she helped him up, black smoke came from the depths of the ruins and started gathering around them.

The old man whimpered, burying his face on her back.

'Don't you dare letting go!' Maria took the old man's hands so that he circled her middle tightly and leaned forward on the broom, feeling a horrible pain between her legs. She tried ignoring it and kicked off hard, her ears filled with the ringing of the old man's screams and a ghastly voice from below.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tharkûn - The name given to Gandalf by the Dwarves. It is interpreted 'staff-man', and thus it is close in meaning to the name 'Gandalf' itself (which means 'Elf of the wand');
> 
> Gad – Westron word for 'stay';
> 
>  
> 
> A/N: As a reference, Maria's charming personality is inspired in several characters I've grown to love, ranging from literature (such as Terry Pratchett's cynical serial smoker Adora Belle Dearheart) and video games (Morrigan from Dragon Age). Any similarities are intended; the complexity of these characters was a great motivation to write Maria Cooper.
> 
> Also, the amount of research I did for this story is too damn high. I've got a notebook filled with notes, drawings and different settings for various chapters outlining the general plot.
> 
> Chapter turned into a monster again, so it's split in two. Next part should come after the 21st of November.


	10. Act II - Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dealing with bearded old men is never easy.

**Chapter Ten: Thud**

_“Therefore (Dwarves) are stone-hard, stubborn, fast in friendship and in enmity (...)”_  
― J.R.R. Tolkien

* * *

  **Note: The Nimbus 2001 goes about 120 Mi/h (193 Km/h) and has the ability to turn 360 degrees in mid-air.**

* * *

 

 

There was a great roar and Maria clenched her legs tightly around the broom to avoid slipping backwards; she was rising through the air fast, her eyes watering slightly, hair whipped back off her face. A pair of thick hands grasped her middle, holding on with desperate intent as she urged the broom upwards in a near-vertical line.

'I reckon you've never done this before?' bellowed Maria, sending a neat jinx at the ruins below. It went through the black smoke like a spear pierces air, exploding when in contact with the stone: she heard the screams and yells of the remaining creatures as a blast of fire and air tore them apart.

A cheer erupted behind her back as the old man let out a cry of victory. He held on tighter still, adding to Maria's discomfort as the cooling air slapped her face and numbed her legs, locked in a grip around the handle. A small, secret grimace twisted her features at the sight of trees and more trees stretching through miles in the landscape.

And then, out of nowhere, out of nothing, a high, cold voice – the very same from her fall, from minutes ago, she was sure of this – spoke so close to them that Maria yelped, jerking in her seat, and sped up in the opposite direction over the vast forest. She winced as the old man pulled her into another death grip, bawling again against her robes.

' _Ashdautas vrasubatlat, sharkuu_ -'

So great was Maria's panic that she almost didn't notice the billowing smoke coming from behind, nor the old man's frantic screams. With one glance at the ruins, she saw a dark cloud extending swiftly from where they stormed, like an arm or their own trail, and threw herself forward on the broom handle.

'Come on,' she growled at the Nimbus, teeth gritted as she turned and pointed at the middle of the oncoming dark and yelled, ' _Reducto!_ '

The jinx flew through smoke uselessly. For a moment, Maria thought she had slowed it, but it had been her lack of concentration that decreased their speed. A mistake that cost them precious seconds, and no sooner had she regained full speed when the broom-head was set on fire. As they now soared in _zigzag_ , Maria knew a dreadful, gut-wrenching pang for both her and the old man; they would die, whether from the fall, burned or caught by dark magic –

Its goal was clear, but whatever pursued them wasn't fast or strong enough; the greater the distance, the thinner it got, until it stopped altogether, withdrawing to the safety of crumbling stone and magic with a deafening bang that reverberated in the air. She should've felt relieved, but they were not yet out of danger. Fear lapped at her as she looked left and right for a safe spot to land...the forest was out of question.

The fields surrounding the border of the forest it was; she'd place wards until they had sorted everything –

'Down there!' shouted Maria, pointing towards the great river running below and at the miles of unblemished countryside, so unlike the sickly woodland. She glanced over her shoulder, afraid that the fire had reached the handle: the flames licked the bristles persistently, but they still had time to avert disaster. Losing this broom would _be_ a disaster.

Maria muttered an Extinguishing Spell under her breath, ignoring the muffled cries of astonishment from the old man and urged the broom to make its way further down. She insisted on hovering over the treetops for a few more miles at full speed until the ruins were out of sight, though low enough so she could see if something foul would hinder their passage. Despite their poor communication, the old man seemed to understand her intentions and thus made no mention to fight back. He too frowned at the dead marshes below, pointing forward when Maria dropped too low for his liking.

'Everything alright back there?' she asked stupidly. Her only answer was a grunt. 'I'll take that as a yes,' she sighed, shifting uncomfortably in her seat. The ruins disappeared in the horizon. In their stead, Maria took in the eerie sight of endless trees, surrounded by plains and mountains far away.

It had darkened considerably since their ghastly rendezvous. Twilight fell, and soon the sky turned into a light, dusky purple littered with the most beautiful stars Maria had ever seen. Before long, awe turned into a cheerless train of thoughts, and tears welled up in her eyes at the memory of home and her father.

' _Lêva_ ,' the old man muttered softly, giving her middle a gentle squeeze. ' _Zardûna_.'

Maria sniffed, holding back a sob. Perhaps the gesture was meant to be reassuring, but it only served to deepen her self-pity.

It wasn't long until Maria decided it would be best to swoop down on the grass lands, – being equal parts sore and cross weighted heavily on this decision – possibly set some meagre camp where no one would bother them, and pray that Daphne kept something edible for a late night dinner. Flying had never been a fancy of hers no matter the circumstances, and the current state of affairs did nothing to help the pain between her legs or the numbness in her muscles.

For all his fussing, the old bloke seemed fairly relaxed now that there was a reasonable distance between himself and the ruins. However, the same could not be said about Maria.

'Brilliant,' she mumbled. Steering the broom into a dive, she made way for the wide river and settled softly near the banks. Once she landed, Maria hopped off the broom first – stretching her legs and arms, the hurt leg throbbing again - and drew a helpful hand to the old man, who dismissed it politely. Despite what must've been years of starvation – and torture, she grimaced – he stood unshaken, staring in silent wonderment at the empty fields.

_He's happy_ , she reasoned, watching as the old man's only functional eye glistened with tears. Slowly, he lowered himself on one thin knee and touched the grass, clutching a small chunk of dirt within his withered hand, chin quivering –

' _Unsas_ ,' he rasped, voice heavy with emotion. ' _Mahd_.'

It took Maria a second to understand he was talking to her, _staring_ at her as if she was someone to be put on a pedestal. All for an unwanted, untimely rescue, a mere chance that had little to do with altruism. In a regular situation, someone else would be in her position.

_Well, this isn't a normal situation, is it?_

Maria turned around briskly to hide the blush that had crept upon her cheeks, worried that it would be visible in the pale moonlight. She took out her wand and raised it, muttering enchantments with urgency.

' _Salvio hexia_... _Protego totalum_... _Repello Muggletum_... _Muffliato_... _Cave Inimicum_...'

She applied the defensive spells to a considerable area, including a small part containing the river's bank. Those things would still be out there come morning, and while the black smoke was unlikely to charge at them, the creatures in the ruins wouldn't lose a chance to harm them.

The river was wide, though not the widest she had ever seen despite running through miles onwards. It didn't strike her as deep, but shallow and clear under the light of the moon and stony at the ford. She sat by the shoreline with her arms around her knees and contemplated with a sort of hesitant acknowledgment how much this place, or rather, this _world_ reminded her of England's countryside but not quite. They had landed somewhere after the marshes, where grass grew healthy and seemed to only grow longer as they neared wide armed oaks and tall elms; nothing like the dark pools and isles that fell behind.

They crossed a larger distance than she had anticipated and flown into the night like two fugitives, as if the devil itself had been after them. Then again, the Nimbus 2001 was a fast broom - if not the best - despite the Firebolt being faster.

Maria raised her head to stare at the starry sky. In the quiet of the night, she sobbed.

' _Zardûna_?'

The old man looked down on her with one glistening eye, the darkened blue a pool of sympathy as he pressed a dirty hand on her shoulder. Like before, it wasn't the comforting gesture he expected it to be. As a gush of cold wind blew past them, Maria felt his whole arm shiver. She gave him a glance over her shoulder, considering the frail figure clad in rags with a very uncomfortable pang in her chest.

'Wait,' she muttered, unbuttoning her robes. The old man gave her a confused look and raised his hands, taking two steps back when Maria was left with a simple black dress beneath the long green garments. 'Here, take this,' she extended an arm, grasping the robes with one hand. 'You need it more than I do.'

Understanding seemed to dawn on him, though Maria almost smirked; she wouldn't put it past the old man to think she had been propositioning him rather indecently.

'Take it,' she repeated, duplicating the same gesture. Still, he shook his head. ' _Take_ it,' the words were uttered with a feeble growl that didn't go unnoticed. With a swift movement, the old man took the robes and stubbornly placed them upon her shoulders. Maria sighed, rolling her eyes.

'Wilful old coot,' she grumbled under her breath, ignoring the raised eyebrows. The old man might not understand her, but he certainly understood the sense of her speech. 'At least join me?' she opened the robes for shelter, gesturing to the spot next to her. 'After all I had to go through to get you out of that god forsaken place, the least you can do is try not to pop your clogs -'

Maria let out a strangled breath; instead of following simple instructions, the old man had pulled her into another hug. She could hardly stand his gratitude, not being worthy of the free flowing tears that soaked her back, or of the whimpers this strange and elderly hairy man produced, head half-buried against her hair and arms round her shoulders. She too let out a sob, overwhelmed with everything: the battle at the Department of Mysteries, her supposed fall into the Veil, dangerous places with spiders and creatures so foul she wished to be dreaming –

And most of all, the obvious sincerity she was being exposed to.

'Please stop that,' she mumbled, unable to stand it a moment longer. Her whole body tensed under this shower of affection. Words she didn't understand were uttered softly, a rough dialect unlike anything she had ever heard before meeting the old man, and it struck that it wasn't meant for her ears; she couldn't explain why, perhaps it had something to do with the strange magic in this place.

It crossed her mind that the old man could crush her neck with his bare hands, and so Maria gripped her wand tightly, going still in the stranger's embrace for a long time.

Of course, despite her fears, opportunity never came. Between muffled sobs and Maria's adamant need to assure the old man that they were safe, that she had placed wards so powerful no daft creature would be able to find them, - despite knowing _he_ certainly wouldn't be able to understand a single word she said – it wasn't long until they collapsed from exhaustion.

' _Mahd_ ,' he grunted, nesting next to Maria on the soft grass.

Much later, Maria stood watch over the old man's sleeping form, and gladly covered him with her robes now that he couldn't possibly refute.

She was only a bit bothered that he had left a nasty scent linger on her hair.

 

\- - -

 

' _Zardûna_?'

Maria opened her eyes, startled to see a bearded face so close to her. Without much thought, she gaped at the tattoos adorning the old man's forehead; the skin sagged from age and malnourishment still retained a grey-ish colour that contrasted with the geometrical symbols painted in blue between a pair of bushy eyebrows.

'Don't do that!' she rebuked drowsily, waving her hand in an irritated gesture. 'And my name is Maria.' A huge loophole, because regardless of what transpired the day before, they still hadn't been properly introduced.

Yet, the old man nodded, turning towards the river. Maria's eyes followed him with some difficulty, squinting at the strong daylight. She was covered up to the waist with her robes, which someone had mysteriously returned while she slumbered.

Sleep hadn't come easy for Maria. After she was sure the old man slept soundly, Maria rummaged through Daphne's purse as intended. It was no surprise to find that it contained a small library, – the extent of which impressed her – but Maria was sorely disappointed that it lacked any food or clothes. She had hoped for a tent, but that was probably asking too much.

'Daphne, what are you doing,' Maria had mumbled after the tenth book on dark magic. There was much about her friend's private life she didn't know, it seemed. Not that she would've bothered asking; Daphne's business was her own. That much was clear. But some of these potions and books were very old indeed, full of magic no ordinary witch or wizard would dare use without a guarantee of protection. Maria shuddered at a particularly disgusting concoction labelled 'Fungiface Potion'.

There were many useful ingredients for potions-making and quite an arsenal of healing potions in case she'd get sick or hurt. The Blood Replenish potions were particularly handy, and even her little black book from Knockturn Alley was there for her to read.

Under the moonlight, Maria took a look at the parchment: the letterings seemed to glow strangely under this light. She should keep it until someone was able to help her, and Maria made a point not to show it again to the old man, lest he return to his previous state.

She sat staring at the starry sky until it was so late it started getting early, the first traces of dawn visible in the horizon while a symphony of snores and wheezes echoed through the empty grass lands. Sometime during the night, she had nodded off against a large boulder. Looking back, it wasn't the brightest thing to do, but at least rocks were safe and only slightly less appealing than the ground.

Fallen leaves crackled underneath her as she tried to get comfortable. Today was a good day by her standards; a clear blue sky, a soft breeze and no sign of the horrible creatures from the ruins. One less problem to solve.

'What're you doing? And keep your breeches where I can see them!' she cried, frowning at the old man who had taken a spot at the stream and splashed in the water. The amusement ended quickly, and Maria gaped, flabbergasted, as he journeyed back to her with two fish still writhing in his grasp.

' _Nîn_ ,' he nodded approvingly, pointing towards the river. After another myriad of words she didn't understand, the old man said something softly, put a fist to his chest and bowed, leaving the fish at her feet. Maria saw him gathering wood near the boulder.

'You want to start a fire, is that it?' she asked, nose turning at the smell of fresh fish. However, her stomach growled at the prospect of a well earned meal. 'I've never had fish for breakfast before.'

Upon his return, the old man was pleasantly surprised that Maria managed to get a fire started with a swish of her wand. His eye flicked warily to her and back at the fire with no small wonder as the fish hovered and turned over the flames, and basked in the heavenly scent of cooked food. He muttered under his breath, but whether it was song or ramble she wasn't sure. It seemed a tune to her ears, but with this he was more careful to hum quietly in that rough language of his.

It occurred to Maria that she had already broken a dozen rules by practicing magic in front of a Muggle. On the other hand, the old man didn't feel as such; there was something about him that was magical in a complete opposite direction.

When the fish looked succulent enough for eating, she transfigured two delicate china plates from rocks near the stream and handed one to the old man who spluttered at the display of magic. Unbothered by this, Maria repeated the same action with another four small rocks, magically shaping them into the oddest cutlery she had ever seen. Not her best work, but forks and knives required more concentration than your usual plate, and she puffed her chest at the old man's bewildered reaction.

She levitated the fish towards his plate and then hers. 'There you go,' as she had been taught, good table manners were vital. 'Enjoy.'

There wasn't a table to speak of, but it was the intention that mattered. Maria had forgotten all about the old man's missing finger, and pretended not to see his awkwardness at trying to eat like a gentleman. Quite like her, he must've been starving; after a few frustrated minutes, the old man put the cutlery aside and took the fish in his hands, munching on the savoury flesh with pleasure. Maria decided not to reproach him; it wasn't her place to do so.

'What's your name? I mean,' she pinched the bridge of her nose, and placed the plate on her lap. 'I'm Maria. _Muh-REE-uh_ ,' holding a hand to her chest, she repeated this until the old man nodded in understanding and mimicked her.

' _Þráinn_ _-ul Þekkr (2)_ ,' he stated proudly with a satisfied smile that enticed Maria's curiosity.

' _Þrá-ii-nn-ool_ –' the words sounded gruff and foreign on her tongue, but this time she felt that it wasn't something meant for her lips to pronounce lightly. As if there was a certain importance to it that transcended her.

' _Þráinn_ _,'_ the old man – _Þráinn_ , she corrected – pressed.

' _Þráinn_ ,' she repeated, confused as to what the other words meant. ' _Þráinn_.' A nod from the old man was enough confirmation that she was, at least, pronouncing his name acceptably. 'Well, _Þráinn_ , where shall we go next?' she pointed forward, at the forest and towards the vast mountains on the other side of the stream. 'I don't fancy staying here while those beasts might still be lurking about -'

_Þráinn_ scratched his head in confusion.

'Sorry,' Maria sighed. This was going to be harder than she thought. 'So,' she grabbed a small twig from the grass and gestured for _Þráinn_ to follow her to the even ground near the stream. The old man noticed her limp and immediately grabbed her arm to help. Maria mumbled an awkward _thank you_ and took a seat near the water. _Þráinn_ kneeled across her while Maria attempted to draw a map. 'We came from t _here_ ,' she pointed at a small _X_ , 'and now we should be about _here_ ,' she drew a diagonal line across the ground, pointing at both of them with the twig. 'Where to?'

She shrugged in askance, squinting at _Þráinn_ 's concerned gaze on her leg. 'I have no place to go until I find a way back, so we might as well stick together. And I refuse to go back _there_.'

_Þráinn_ 's gaze followed the line to the place where Maria had marked the ruins and shook his head vehemently.

' _Muh-REE-uh_ ,' he pointed at the sky, then at himself, at his eye and at the ruins until Maria understood. His hands seemed to describe a great disturbance.

'You saw me fall from the sky?' she gasped, horrified. 'That's why you were watching; you saw me fall and then heard the explosion at the forest?'

She gestured wildly, trying to make a point. _Þráinn_ nodded strongly.

'Well, that's just -'

If _Þráinn_ was right, then her sudden arrival had caused a rift in the skies, possibly one big enough for more than one inhabitant of this strange land to have watched something strange fall into the forest. Perhaps that was why the spiders came: she had either landed right in the middle of their home or they too had felt something that shouldn't belong?

What if other beings were also looking for her?

' _Þráinn_ , where to?' she insisted, pointing at the map. 'Where should we _go_?'

The old man gave her a once over, his gaze lingering on her hurt leg with a frown. Then, he pointed at the horizon behind her, saying something quick she didn't quite understand. It was as if _Þráinn_ spoke two languages at once, one soft and the other rough, though Maria wondered if he could only speak loose words of the latter.

'Brilliant. Onwards, then.'

It didn't take them long to break what meagre camp they had. _Þráinn_ insisted that she would do best to leave no trace of their settling, something which Maria agreed whole-heartedly with, once she figured what the old man's frantic gestures meant. The dishes and cutlery were shoved inside the purse along with a few large rocks that, she assumed, were for _Þráinn_ _'s_ defence. He seemed quite excited, and she thought he uttered a name, _Ered Luin_ , along the usual shower of languages she didn't understand. It sounded even more foreign to her ears despite the melodic tone that, somehow, didn't seem to suit _Þráinn_ , and she briefly considered if that wasn't yet another language in this strange world.

'Quite the change you went through since I found you,' Maria snorted, raising an eyebrow at the old man's insistence that she should get the invisible seat on the broom. Ignoring the distressed grumbling, Maria tried to explain very patiently just how they could share the seat, time and time again, until _Þráinn_ understood it was big enough for both of them.

Unfortunately, Maria didn't count with _Þráinn_ _'s_ unusual stubbornness.

 

\- - -

 

'Serves you right for being so stubborn!'

Maria smirked smugly at _Þráinn_ _'s_ cries of outrage; she had just rounded him up fabulously and now they soared the airs again, both sharing a seat. Eventually his cries subsided to grumbles, and Maria could swear she had heard a sigh behind her back before the old man adjusted himself on the seat. A small victory indeed, even if fear of falling from such a height worked in her favor.

They journeyed for many miles along the great river. The air was chill and there was an autumn like mist on the ground that gradually dissipated as the hours passed. Maria saw nothing below save grass and meadows and the singing of birds through scattered trees, and she found herself wondering if the people in this place knew cities like she did, if civilization was harder to track than tortured souls sitting in ruins. It would explain a great deal, even if Maria wasn't ready to accept that she had fallen someplace else that wasn't her world.

She snorted, startling _Þráinn_ who held on to her middle tighter. Other worlds were something unheard of. The logical explanation – and the most vexing – would be that she was dead. Dead to one place perhaps, but very much alive at the same time and this already raised a few interesting and not so interesting questions that would keep her busy for a while.

Her one and only crucial mystery was: would she be able to go back? Return to England, see her father again, convince Derwent that those horrible goblins should be banned from the wizarding world for as long as she lived, and perhaps thank Proudfoot for defending her –

And find out what it was that he wanted to tell her. It seemed so important at the time, but she couldn't very well sit still and listen to gossip while her father lay unconscious and surrounded by goblins.

'Father,' she mumbled in a small voice, lips quivering. She'd have to push these thoughts aside until she found someone able to help her for real.

'How're you holding up?' she asked, glancing at _Þráinn_ over her shoulder. The old man answered with a grunt; it was quite clear that he didn't fancy the idea of crossing the skies on a broom, miles up from the ground. Maria let out a humorless laugh.

Around noon she spotted a wooden house surrounded by ancient oaks, and a large gate leading to a path. She wasn't sure, but it seemed that a man was cutting wood, and there were animals around him, wandering the planted fields and sitting beneath trees. It wasn't just Maria who noticed this rustic housing; _Þráinn_ started pointing at the figure below with frantic gestures, speaking very fast as if to urge her to land.

Maria did as she was bid, curious if this stranger could be of help. In any case, she had her wand.

The stranger saw her, she was sure of this, and as Maria dropped lower and lower she saw a huge man with a thick black beard and hair, and great bare arms and legs with knotted muscles; he was staring at them bewildered, axe in hand. _Þráinn_ started shouting in that soft language, signalling at the man who stood still and impassive watching this strange spectacle.

'I think I'm landing somewhere near the gate,' she mumbled, urging her broom forward. _Þráinn_ surprised her by crying in outrage and then pleading, as if she had lost her senses. 'I'm just going to land at the gate, the _gate_ ,' she pointed at the large wooden structure. 'It's impolite to land in on a stranger's house without an invitation!'

The old man groaned, hopping off the broom as soon as they landed and running to the gate. He knocked, an insistent noise breaking the quiet in the grass lands. Maria stood a few steps behind, gripping her wand tightly.

Then, the gate opened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (24/12/2014) **Edited** : Switched Ered Mithrin to Ered Luin. Thráin asks Maria to take him to the Blue Mountains, the mountain range at the far west of Eriador.
> 
> **More Notes** :  
> (2) We don't know the real Westron names for Thorin and the Company, Gandalf or Thráin, for that matter. It's important to point that the versions we get book and movie wise are the translation to Modern English. As such, to provide a better reading experience and because we have no reference whatsoever to what Thráin's name would be in Westron, I've taken the liberty of using the original Old Norse names from the Dvergatal in the Völuspá which greatly influenced Tolkien to write the Dwarves.
> 
> The Dvergatal is a section from the Völuspá. Its translation means 'The Catalogue of Dwarves' and this is where almost all the names of the Dwarves in Middle Earth, as well as Gandalf's, were taken from. I should give a heads up and fair warning though: the Tolkien Wiki states two different things. One that Þráinn means Thráin on the character page, and that Thráin is Þorinn on the direct translation from the Völuspá. For the moment I'll be going with the translation from the character page, but if someone confirms this before I do please let me know.
> 
> Þráinn is a dwarf from the Dvergatal. It means "Stubborn" and reads Thráin.
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> **Translations** :
> 
> Black Speech:  
> Ashdautas vrasubatlat sharkuu – Someday I will kill you, old man;
> 
> Khuzdul:  
> Zardûna – magic lady;  
> Unsas – savior;  
> Mahd – blessing;
> 
> Westron:  
> Lêva – woman;  
> Nîn – water;


	11. Act II - Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Interlude to an important meeting.

**Chapter Eleven: Out of Place  
**

" _(...)_ _"witches" and "sorcerers" have a bad reputation in Middle Earth because - as far as Tolkien's writings reveal - they all served_ _Morgoth_ _or Sauron."_  
― AskMiddleEarth

* * *

**Interlude to an important meeting.**

* * *

Maria listened with half an ear to _Þráinn_ _’s_ gabble while dismounting; she put one foot on the ground and then the other, taking longer than necessary to avoid straining her leg. Landing softly on the grass, she cringed at the prickly feel that numbed her muscles and mouthed a curse. Maria rubbed her arms, feeling the cold wind of autumn peer through the fabric of her robes.

Around them, green pasture fields surrounded the walled house. Great patches of flowers sprouted together as if they had been planted, reminding Maria of beautiful English gardens but not quite: there was something wild in these lands that she had never encountered before. It was very different from society in London and what she was used to. The greater the distance from the ruins, the more pronounced it felt.

At her feet, fallen leaves mingled with the grass, and the pastures were slowly turning brownish as the tall trees stripped for winter. Maria was mesmerized by this landscape, but soon came to her senses when a buzzing passed right next to her ear, and she gasped at the oversized bees whirring and droning in the air.

Further ahead _Þráinn_ was very busy indeed: she saw him consorting with the colossal lumberjack, looking much like a small tree towered by a mountain. Every once in a while _Þráinn_ would point at her and then turn back at the other man who was leaning on his axe, watching her with no small amount of distrust. He loomed over _Þráinn_ and her easily and not unlike the gamekeeper at Hogwarts, though Maria suspected this man could be even more dangerous if angered.

Maria squinted at the giant man’s face, trying to discern if he was snarling or laughing. In the tree veiled light, she could see a thick black beard and hair framing a rough face with hard eyes. His lips were pressed hard together as he looked down on _Þráinn_ , without a hint of a smile. Now that she was closer, Maria could see the full length of the giant’s body; he was huge, with broad shoulders and bare knotted arms and legs. The tunic of wool down to his knees made him look even more mountainous, and she shuddered as his boisterous voice boomed through the fields.

‘Muh-REE-uh,’ called _Þráinn_ , gesturing for her to come closer. Maria hesitated, but decided to oblige at the old man’s insistence, limping through the fields with her wand and broom in each hand. Much to her surprise, _Þráinn_ came running her way, bearing a concerned frown that wrinkled his forehead as he helped her walk towards the gate.

‘Thank you, but I’m fine, _Þráinn_ ,’ mumbled Maria, failing to wriggle free from the old man’s grasp. She caught the giant’s inquisitive stare and immediately looked down to avoid further unpleasantness. ‘You can be a bit daft and overbearing once you’ve set your mind on something. I’m not sure I like that.’

When _Þráinn_ said nothing of consequence that she could understand, Maria sighed. This short old man was oddly strong for someone in his condition.

‘And for your sake, I hope that’s not a half-giant.’

Clutching her wand tightly, Maria marched forward with _Þráinn_ hanging on her arm until they reached the gate. Slowly, Maria raised her head, taking in the massive man and his axe.

She shrunk back a few steps.

‘ _Narag_ ,’ said the big man gruffly, leaning forward until his face was close to Maria’s. ‘ _Ar razân lêva_.’

Maria was at a loss, leaning further back with her hands raised in a peaceful gesture. ‘I’m sorry, I’m confused -’

Her foreign speech must’ve startled him, for the man replied with a growl and pointed at the wand she carried. Maria gasped, unable to process what had just happened and spluttered something incomprehensible.

The voice was a whisper. ‘ _Zardûna_ ,’ _Þráinn_ tugged at the sleeve of her robes, pushing her behind him. He then gripped her arm with a bony hand and forced her to lower her wand, eyeing the giant cautiously when he picked up the axe with both hands.

‘What’s happening?’ whimpered Maria. ‘What did I do? He saw us flying, why is he suddenly afraid of my wand?’

Her questions fell on deaf ears. Before long the two men entered an argument, the giant growling and snarling at her and _Þráinn_ , while the old man gestured wildly before snatching her broom and shaking it in the air, leaving Maria to gape at their quarrel.

As the two men argued, Maria moved around the garden and gripped her wand, her arm shaking so badly that she thought it would slip through her fingers. Reaching an old oak tree, she sat down heavily and leaned against the trunk with a sunken expression, watching _Þráinn_ point at the sky with her broom. Not Daphne’s, she mused. It was hers, now. There was one person in need of a racing broom and it certainly wasn’t Daphne. It was a selfish thought, but knowing there were still things she could call her own gave Maria some comfort, as if there was still hope. Of what, she wasn’t sure, but it was – unwittingly – thanks to Daphne Greengrass.

Maria felt an unexplained rush of affection for her friend; they were miles apart – or worlds, she hadn’t decided yet – but Daphne’s strange exploits and trinkets had been crucial for her survival. When they met again, she’d make sure to thank the other witch properly.

She thrust her hand inside the purse and felt the soft outlines of the parchment, relaxing visibly. With some luck, the parchment would be her one way ticket out of this place.

‘Merlin’s beard,’ she huffed, rolling her eyes at _Þráinn_ ’s indignant squeals as the giant man barked something that sounded rough and offensive.

There was a rustle somewhere to her right: Maria turned her head immediately, but the source of the noise proved to be nothing more than a pure white rabbit, hopping towards the gate. It stopped at the sight of her, shiny coal eyes watching her with curiosity. Maria drew a hesitant hand, smiling faintly when the rabbit approached her, its small pink nose twitching as it smelled her fingers.

‘I’m sure they don’t smell that interesting,’ she snorted, biting her lip to prevent a wider smile. The rabbit hopped closer, showing great interest on her palm and wrist. ‘Maybe that’s your way of telling me I need a shower?’

Their interaction didn’t last. It wasn’t long until the rabbit hopped away, but not before giving Maria one last curious glance. This struck her as odd, that maybe the rabbit could be as intelligent as many other magical creatures despite looking so ordinary. Perhaps the animals here were different as well, and shared a connection with whatever powers ruled these lands. Given that Maria knew virtually nothing about where she was, it was a good explanation as any.

Maria sighed, leaning back on the trunk again. Surreptitiously, she pushed the fabric of her robes a few inches away from her skin and took a deep breath, feeling the scent of a day and a half of dangerous stunts. She grimaced.

When she looked back at the two men, Maria saw the giant had picked up the rabbit: he cocked his head to the side so that it looked that the rabbit was whispering into his ear. Then, he gently placed the rabbit on the ground and stared at it hopping away, before turning at _Þráinn_ , nodding once. Maria sat a little straighter as _Þráinn_ ran to her, his mouth wide open in a relived grin.

‘Did that man,’ she pointed at the giant watching them, ‘just have a conversation with a rabbit? Can he talk to animals? _Is he a wizard_?’

As expected _Þráinn_ didn’t understand a word, but instead of dwelling on this he pulled Maria to her feet and helped her cross the distance to the gate where the giant waited for them.

‘ _Björn_ ,’ said _Þráinn_ , pointing at the giant; he lowered his head and frowned, staring at Maria with dark eyes that were riddled with suspicion.

‘ _Björn_ ,’ repeated Maria hesitantly, having a bit of trouble with the pronunciation. However, _Þráinn_ seemed satisfied, giving her a light pat on the back. The giant – _Björn_ – lead the way through the courtyard in large steps that Maria found impossible to accompany.

As they followed _Björn_ through the wide track leading to a long low wooden house, Maria noticed several animals: among the closest she saw horses, sheep, dogs and a fox, all scattered along the path, watching them with unmistaken curiosity. It wasn’t until they reached a dark door that opened out of the courtyard and into the house that Maria caught a glimpse of the white rabbit, perched near the threshold.

_Þráinn_ too noticed the small creature, for he pointed at it and whispered: ‘tapuk.’

Maria frowned at this, puzzled that the old man considered teaching her bits of his language; it was no doubt considerate, even if it was uncalled for. However, she dreaded to think about a reason why it’d be necessary in the long run, and ended waving off this kindness with an annoyed gesture.

‘No,’ Maria shook her head. ‘Rabbit,’ she corrected, snorting at the way _Þráinn_ ’s soft blue eye lit up at the exchange.

‘Rr-æ-beet,’ he uttered, frowning at Maria’s faint smirk. A glance gave away the almost reverential look upon the old man’s face, a surprise and shaky hope that _Þráinn_ was unable to cast aside, as if a great honour had been bestowed upon him. It made Maria conjecture about his thoughts on herself.

‘Close enough,’ she hummed, teeth chattering. _Þráinn_ noticed this and held her closer, rubbing her arm with a bony hand.

They found themselves in a wide hall with a fire-place in the middle and a long table at the far end, lit only by the dim flames set ablaze by wood-fire. A blessing after being chased and left for dead, Maria muttered through gritted teeth. Though it couldn’t be later than noon, the sunlight had proved insufficient to keep her warm; on the other hand, _Þráinn_ didn’t voice any complaints that she could understand. His poorly clad body seemed immune to subtle climate change, and the cold wind gushing certainly wasn’t enough to force him to snug near the fire. Maria was of a different mind; were it not for the short body rushing her forward or the smoke billowing upwards to blackened rafters, she would’ve taken the opportunity in a heartbeat.

The giant _Björn_ lead them to the table where they sat on wooden benches, reappearing moments later with half a dozen animals trailing behind. The table was set by dogs; Maria’s jaw dropped as the first laid a white cloth and the next expertly set the cutlery and then bowls filled with cream. She sensed magic in the air again; like in the fields outside it was pure and unblemished, and it served to further her suspicion that _Björn_ was a sort of wizard.

A wizard without a wand! Maria coughed heavily for breath and didn’t try to hide her flabbergasted expression. _Björn_ and _Þráinn_ turned to her with a frown, the latter patting her gently on the back.

‘I – well, thanks,’ she spluttered when a large coal black ram approached her with a bowl of fresh water on its back.

Shoulders slumped, she took a sip. ‘Wandless magic _everywhere_ ,’ she mumbled slowly, gulping the beverage. ‘Where the devil am I?’

Maria looked down at her feet; it took all her self-restraint not to gape at everything around her. _Þráinn_ ’s sharp eye caught this, and he reacted at once by holding her arm with a bony hand as a gesture of both comfort and warning.

‘ _Tung Björn_ ,’ _Þráinn_ started, bowing his head regally at their host. Then, he said several soft words, repeating a movement towards the ceiling and at Maria. His explanation seemed to please the great giant, for he stroked his beard thoughtfully and no longer stared at Maria with distaste. Instead, there was a curious glint in his eye, mingled with subtle suspicion.

‘ _Muh-REE-uh_ ,’ he paused, focusing upon Maria. The giant seemed to consider something, though she couldn’t understand why he suddenly seemed entranced with _Þráinn_ ’s forehead. Silence was broken by a sudden grunt, and the word _Eikinskjaldi_ hung in the air, followed by a rough name, similar to _Þráinn_ , that Maria strained to figure out.

_Þráinn_ ’s hand tightened round her arm, his eyes widening in fear as if they were still chased by the creatures in the ruins. Maria stared at the two men, puzzled.

‘ _Þorinn_ ,’ the old man whispered. There were tears in his eyes.

Maria stayed silent, listening to the incomprehensible conversation between the two men. Her senses were tingling; there was something very wrong. Notwithstanding _Þráinn_ ’s sorrowful reaction or _Björn_ 's solemn gaze, it was clear to her that there had been a change in the air, a disturbance of sorts that felt heavier upon her shoulders. Perhaps it had to do with this _Þorinn_ person. She assumed it was a name, as it had been repeated multiple times ominously and was close to _Þráinn_.

However, Maria did wonder what they meant with _Erebor_.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shorter chapter this time, the next will be uploaded **before January 9th (EDITED: 01/01/2015)**. It's a brief interlude to a very important meeting between father and son.
> 
> Þorinn is translated to Thorin and Eikinskjaldi to 'Oakenshield'.  
> Björn is Old Norse for Beorn (bear).
> 
>  
> 
> **Translations** :
> 
> **Westron (Common Speech)**  
>  Narag ar razân lêva –in fact, this is a merging of Sindarin and Westron meant to translate into 'A dwarf and a strange woman.' Tolkien never gives us enough source material to understand Westron fully, but we do know it was 'a Mannish speech, though enriched and softened under Elvish influence.' We know a few words, but we're missing most of its structure;  
> Tapuk – rabbit;  
> Tung – great;
> 
> **Khuzdul**  
>  Zardûna – magic lady;
> 
> **Sindarin**  
>  Ar – and;  
> Erebor – Sindarin translation for 'Lonely Mountain';
> 
> A huge thanks to Certh for helping with translations!
> 
>  
> 
> **Let me know what you think? =)**


	12. Act II - Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A brief reunion.

**Chapter Twelve: Almost**

" _I had a son."_  
― Thráin, _DOS_ _EE_

* * *

**A brief reunion.  
**

* * *

Maria was exhausted, and it hadn't been long until sleep finally took over her. Nightfall brought an unwelcome coolness, softened only by roaring the flames that licked fresh logs in the pit. Inside the hall was now quite dark. Torches about the tall columns surrounding the hearth were put out. In the light of the dancing flames, strange shadows were cast on the pillars of the house, darkening as they neared the rafters like trees of the forest.

Everything was silent. The wind didn't even whip against the shutters and the lack of bird song, a merry tune during the day, seemed ominous. It was as if time stood completely still.

She chose a spot near the fire-place, huddling for warmth on a tattered blanket one of the sheep bore on its broad back. A few books were scattered around her form, lying open as if someone had thrown them aside in a fit, while others had been stacked neatly against a pillar and sorted by size. For some reason, three delicious red apples waited on a wooden bowl near the pile, a small kindness for the night in case she woke up famished.

A muffled sound – or was it the loud roar outside? - roused Maria from her sleep. She jerked awake, sprung up like one of the dogs had bitten her and gasped, eyes wide in fear. A quick glance at the dark hall gave away nothing out of the ordinary; there was no sign of their host or of its entourage. With a groan and a scratch of her head, Maria wondered if they had retired somewhere else. Perhaps they were intimidated by her and decided to leave, stalking away like thieves in the night –

'Shit,' she mumbled as a familiar dread bubbled in her stomach, shoving a hand inside her purse. Her fingers touched dry parchment and she relaxed, though her breaths came heavy and ragged, and her shadow a small thing that danced in the walls.

A dry noise, almost sounding like a sob, echoed from the back. Maria's head shot up, and she saw a dim light coming from the large table. She stood up, gripping her wand in a tight fist.

' _Þráinn_ ,' she called, walking slowly towards the source of the noise. 'Is that you?'

There was no answer. As she got closer, Maria made out the outlines of a body shorter than hers and the old man's unruly mane, a quivering shadow looming maps and charcoal.

'Why are you crying? Oh, for Merlin's sake – _Lumos_ ,' she flicked her wand expertly and a warm light illuminated the tip, casting light in the immediate vicinity. Blinking, _Þráinn_ turned his head to stare at her magic in silent wonderment, a single tear falling from the end of his long nose.

Maria bit her lip.

'Is this because of what happened earlier? Your conversation with that _Björn_ person, I mean,' Maria asked, frowning at the old man's grief stricken face. He only grunted, gesturing for her to sit next to him. She did so with an uncomfortable feeling, as if there was something everyone but her was able to understand and that she should know to act upon. After a brief glance at the scattered maps on the table, Maria remembered at least one important thing and her eyes shone with interest. 'One of you mentioned _Erebor_?'

_Þráinn_ 's breath hitched in his throat. ' _Zardûna_ -'

Maria's eyes fell on one of the maps, narrowing at the detailed drawing of a dragon sitting on top a mountain. Although she couldn't read the runes written on the parchment, a quick glance at the remaining maps was enough for her to understand part of what was troubling the old man's mind.

'What's this?' she demanded, pointing at the dragon glowing in red ink. ' _Þráinn_ ,' Maria called in a softer voice, painfully aware of _Þráinn_ 's shudder. 'I'm not dim-witted, this has something to do with _Erebor_ and _Þorinn_ ,' another shudder, 'I know you can't understand me, but only an idiot wouldn't at least think something odd was going on. I did hear your conversation with that man, remember? Now tell me which one this is, _Erebor_ or _Þorinn_?'

Maria stressed the words and looked intently at _Þráinn_ , raising an eyebrow in silent inquiry. The old man huffed, his large nose wrinkled in agitation, but he made no point to answer beyond mumbling, and Maria thought he was closer to the mad shell of his former self than ever. She sighed, shoulders sagging; whatever the matter was, it certainly didn't warrant such a reaction. In no way could his situation be worse than hers now that _Þráinn_ was no longer in the clutches of the horrible shadow in the ruins.

Maria decided it was time for a change of plan.

'Right, you stay here,' she frowned, starting to stand up, 'and I'll go back to sleep. It's not as if you're being very helpful to your cause. Or mine, for that matter,' Maria patted him on the shoulder, shaking her head.

As Maria turned, she felt a bony hand grab her arm and pull her down. Behind her Þráinn sobbed and trembled again, and if the situation was not so heartbreaking she would've smirked victoriously at such a well performed deceit.

' _Zardûna_ -' his voice broke, but _Þráinn_ put a fist to his chest, staring up at her with tears streaming down his cheeks. ' _Þorinn_ ,' he said, ' _inùdoy_.'

Maria sat down again, though now she was the one looking up, eyes glimmering with ill concealed curiosity as she considered the old man from below. From this angle, he was taller than her by one or two heads.

' _Þorinn_ ,' Maria repeated with a frown, the word rolling strangely on her tongue. 'What's that, a heart disease?'

_Þráinn_ did the same gesture a second time and a third, but his insistence was for naught. Even when he changed language less than subtly, – or so Maria assumed – she found it increasingly difficult to understand what or who _Þorinn_ was.

Maria pinched the bridge of her nose, waving her hand dismissively. 'Alright, moving on. What's _Erebor_?'

Despite their troubles to communicate, the conversation seemed to have lifted _Þráinn_ 's spirits somewhat; it was as the old man had been given a new sense of purpose that Maria could not, for the life of her, understand. With surprising swiftness for someone his age, _Þráinn_ rummaged through the maps and shoved one into Maria's hands that had certainly seen better days, illustrating a vast area of woods, mountains and small villages scattered across old parchment. Someone had drawn a dragon flying around one of the mountains, though she couldn't translate what was written below in black ink. Maria eyes widened and slumped further on her seat, realizing how far away from home she was.

'This has to be another world,' she blurted, staring at the map blankly. Across her seat, _Þráinn_ observed her with pity. 'But how – _Þráinn_ ,' Maria placed the map on the table and pointed at it and then at them in askance. 'Where in Merlin's most saggy Y-fronts are we?'

_Þráinn_ pointed at a house near the vast woods, uttering ' _Björn_ ' in a firm, but respectful tone.

Maria raised her eyebrows.

'Did we come from here?' she pointed at a drawing towards the bottom of the forest, tracing an invisible line from the house with her index finger. _Þráinn_ nodded.

'What about _Erebor_ and _Þorinn_? Can you see them?'

Gulping, _Þráinn_ sent a distressed look in Maria's direction. After a moment of hesitation, he pointed at the mountain where the dragon was drawn flying near the peak, his whole arm trembling and he whispered ' _Erebor_ '.

Maria blinked.

'That's not reassuring. What about _Þorinn_? ' she insisted, overwhelmed by all the information.

_Þráinn_ placed a fist to his chest again, but then, like Maria, traced a line on the map, this time from the house to the mountain. Something told her this gesture meant that _Þorinn_ was most likely a person and not an ill omen or something similar. A thought started taking shape in her mind; if Maria was indeed right and _Þorinn_ was someone the old man knew, then he was going towards a mountain where dragons inhabited. Of course, _Muggles_ wouldn't know about dragons. Perhaps there was a city or a village where witches and wizards like her lived, and they took care of this horde of magical creatures?

On the other hand, Maria wondered if this world worked differently. She dismissed the thought at once; it would be irresponsible to leave dragons unattended. What if one decided to attack a city?

There had to be some kind of wizard-folk in this place. Magic was all around, albeit under a different guise, but it was there all the same. Only a fool wouldn't be able to feel it. It was only logical that there were people like her somewhere, even if in a shorter number. As far as Maria was concerned, the giant and the old man had something definitely magical about them that she couldn't quite pin down yet.

' _Ered Luin_ ,' _Þráinn_ mumbled, pointing at the range of mountains on the opposite corner of the map. Maria was snapped out of her musings.

'That's the place where you asked me to take you, yes?' she tried to convey her meaning, but was met with silence. For some reason, it struck her that this wasn't due to a lack of understanding on _Þráinn_ 's part, but for something else that had to do with _Erebor_ and _Þorinn_.

Then, _Þráinn_ pointed at the other mountain, a lonely thing at the edge of the map. ' _Erebor_ ,' he uttered, his only eye boring into hers pleadingly.

Maria sighed. There was a lot that could go wrong with this plan. If she was wrong and this world worked differently, then they'd be in a lot of trouble. One witch alone couldn't take down a dragon, and she certainly didn't think it prudent to go near one without a small army of wizards backing her up. However, it seemed silly to think that dragons would be on the loose in this world.

On the other hand, if this trip proved beneficial, then she would be able to return home to her father.

'Alright,' she nodded slowly, staring at the tears of joy that had started flowing again from _Þráinn_ 's eyes. 'We can go to _Erebor_.'

While less unexpected this time, his strong hug was a terrible thing, and a heavy weight set itself comfortably upon Maria's shoulders when she realized that a flaw in her plan would lead the kind old man to his death. _Þráinn_ 's laughter seemed almost like sobs, muffled against Maria's shoulder as he hugged her.

Behind _Þráinn_ she noticed a large bowl with two red apples, half-covered and shadow, and bit her lower lip.

Much later, when the day started dawning and the giant returned to his halls, Maria sat on the front porch, watching fondly as _Þráinn_ engaged in a conversation with the tall man. She took a bite to one of the red apples. While this would usually have been a pleasurable snack, Maria found that she had some difficulty shaking off the same weight she had felt on her shoulders since the previous night. She shifted her feet guiltily, looking at the old man as he caught her stare and waved back. The hopeful twinkle in his eye fueled by a strong determination that Maria didn't understand were bothersome, in the very least.

Maria nodded in his direction, feeling relieved when the old man turned back to the giant and resumed their conversation. After a moment of silent introspection, she placed the apple on her legs and gazed at the blue autumn sky, wondering about the intricacies of unlikely friendships and the price of desperation.

Guilt and remorse, she decided, were the worst feelings.

oooOOOooo

It took them the rest of the day to plan the journey, and another to gather supplies. Grudgingly, Maria admitted only to herself that _Björn_ was a gentle giant. Despite his rough manners and general mistrust of her magic, he promptly offered them help when they needed, going so far as to allow _Þráinn_ to bathe and change into a loose travelers outfit that she quickly enchanted to fit his short body. Now that he was clean and well-clothed, _Þráinn_ seemed even more determined and, if possible, more stubborn. He had a few laughs when she failed at some meager, basic task that didn't involve magic, but somehow his eyes always managed to find the mountain far away, beyond the green woods.

However, as _Þráinn_ 's spirits lifted, Maria's lowered with each passing hour. The old man had gained a sense of purpose with their trip to the mountain, while Maria felt she was only biding her time in this strange world, ill-fitted to survive in a medieval era. It was cleared now that they had made a brief stop, resting at the giant's home during their visit.

Of course, Maria didn't find any of this amusing. Her frustration only grew when she unsuccessfully tried to start a fire the _Muggle_ way, trying not to attract unwanted attention or _Björn_ 's reproachful stare. She thought him a strange wizard and wondered why he refused to use magic in front of her when there were so many signs of its existence, but decided not to raise the subject. It wasn't as if the tall man would understand her.

Even the animals were afraid of her, though by the end of the second day a few boldly headbutted her hand when she returned from a visit to the privy. The lack of proper bathroom facilities was perhaps the most heartbreaking development of all. Maria conjectured that the animals felt she was unusually frustrated, though she didn't know what to make of it. She had managed to keep her bladder in check until they reached _Björn_ 's house, but soon they would be on the road again and she'd have to make due. The whole situation was ludicrous.

Two days rest had been enough for the pain on her leg to lessen. Maria no longer limped, but neither could she run without hurting. A simple charm ( _Ferula_ ) fixed the issue in little time, though Maria almost slapped herself for not thinking about it sooner.

Grumbling to herself, Maria stalked the halls of _Björn_ 's home towards the exit. _Þráinn_ was already waiting for her outside, no doubt thanking the giant or exchanging a few concerned words with him in the same ominous tone that seemed to have lasted throughout their stay.

As she followed the wide track to the gate, Maria saw several of _Björn_ 's animals watching her with curiosity. She waved goodbye at them, feeling sorry to leave their company so soon, and quickened her pace; the two men waited for her ahead.

'Here I am,' she said, smiling pleasantly. The old man returned her smile with a nod, patting her gently on the back. He was much cleaner and a lot smellier after a couple of baths, and the short axe strapped firmly on his back was an intimidating sight for her to behold. It was surprising to Maria that he was able to keep his balance.

However, even though _Þráinn_ tried to hide it, Maria could feel him tense. The lines on his forehead deepened as he watched Maria take out her broom, a mix of wonderment and fear.

' _Muh-REE-uh_ ,' said _Björn_ , bowing his head at her. Maria fumbled with the buttons of her robes awkwardly.

' _Björn_ ,' she repeated the gesture with a nervous bubbling in her stomach. The giant stared at her as if he was considering something, and then took out a small dagger from beneath his vest. Maria tensed and she could feel _Þráinn_ 's hand on her back reassuring her.

When _Björn_ handed her the dagger without so much as a word, Maria blinked, spluttering something incomprehensible. The giant only laughed, and his words were lost in her subsequent embarrassment. There was something about her wand and broom, she knew that much. Perhaps he meant to warn her to be careful and not to lose them, or else she'd be useless. Of course.

'Thank you,' Maria mumbled. Next to her, _Þráinn_ gave a sharp nod.

Moments later, when the dagger was safely tucked inside her purse, along with all their supplies, Maria and _Þráinn_ soared the air again, heading towards vast forest at full speed. The wind gushed past them; it was a fine morning, and if Maria's calculations were correct, it couldn't be later than mid-morning. They still had a lot of ground to cover before reaching the mountain, though they'd certainly be there before nightfall without any stops.

'I'm not going down there,' she drawled, pointing at the track underneath. It went through the forest almost in a straight line, taking a wide turn ahead.

' _Zardûna_ -' _Þráinn_ tugged at Maria's middle, and he too pointed below. ' _Þorinn_ ,' he said, and Maria could've sworn she heard the old man's voice quiver.

'Brilliant,' she grumbled, lowering in the air until they stood close – but not too close – to the tree tops. 'But I'm not going down there and risk more spiders,' she added, wincing with disgust at the memory of the unusually large black creatures.

Whatever _Þráinn_ thought he didn't try to convey, though Maria almost jumped on their shared seat as the old man bellowed the name ' _Þorinn_ ' at the trees below them, over and over again. He cried out until his voice was hoarse and then continued for hours on a row. Eventually, Maria joined him for greater effect. _Þráinn_ held on tighter to her middle, and there was desperation in his voice.

'Wait a second –' Maria aimed the tip of her wand at her throat and said: ' _Sonorus_!'

Any chirping or queer noises drowned as Maria's voice echoed through the forest, calling for _Þorinn_ , her accent strangely soft for such foreign name. It was high, angry and clear: even Maria couldn't tell where her voice came from; it seemed to issue from the forest itself, the air and the ground, vibrating strongly with each new cry. No one answered them. Shoulders sagging, she cast a non-verbal counter spell and kept flying forward.

Maria decided to diminish their speed, allowing for a more thorough search. Of whom, she wasn't sure. However, now that she was sure that _Þorinn_ was an individual and not an ailment, it was easier for her to understand what drove the old man. She could only speculate on this person's identity.

As they neared the middle of the forest, Maria noticed with pity that the woods felt sick, not unlike the area surrounding the ruins. However, as they reached the region where two rivers joined, the sickly trees turned greener until there was a beautiful landscape below that stretched for several more miles. Maria thought she could see a village ahead in the wide lake; smoke rose far ahead over a brown smudge in the horizon, under the mountain's watch. She narrowed her eyes, trying to see dragons, but no creature appeared on the horizon.

Disappointed and with her stomach grumbling, Maria looked at the river banks below for a spot to land. _Þráinn_ merely grunted at this, though he did not refute the decision, and soon they were on firm ground again, looking at the river below.

They set camp on a rocky cliff looming over the river. It was miserably uncomfortable, and Maria would've tripped on her ankles and fallen on the stream were it not for _Þráinn_ 's untimely interference, scooping her away from the edge of the cliff. After a sound tongue lashing from the old man, Maria decided she wouldn't do any more sight-seeing from anywhere tall enough to cause her death. Without the safety of her broom, she seemed to suffer from an odd case of vertigo.

'This isn't too bad,' Maria took another bite of a red apple and a sip of fresh water. Her legs felt sore from the ride. 'Though I could eat a whole pork -' she blinked, puzzled at _Þráinn_ 's silent glower. 'What're you doing, _Þráinn_? Sit down and eat.'

The old man ignored her and continued his watch, striding back and forth in their improvised camp, axe in hand. He jumped every time Maria made a sudden move or a bird chirped in the trees, and thrice he cried what seemed something a warrior would shout before charging into battle. Maria scratched her head at this behaviour, wondering if she should put up her wards. The forest seemed peaceful enough to leave them out until nightfall.

' _Zardûna_ ,' the old man nodded at her, checking the perimeter again. For some reason, he seemed more on edge here than after their escape from the ruins.

Maria sighed, rubbing her temples. She caught the moan of frustration before it left her throat and startled the old man again.

'Look, you can't expect to fly for the rest of the day without a meal. Sit down,' she pointed her wand at the spot across the fire. 'And eat something for Merlin's sake -'

Maria froze in mid-gesture.

'What -'

Before her, _Þráinn_ climbed atop a rock near the edge of the cliff. Frightened, Maria stumbled a little through the rocky ground until she was next to _Þráinn_ , and they both listened to the water running and frantic shouting in the distance, towards the heart of the woods following the stream upwards. Maria continued to stand there, gaping like a fish, while _Þráinn_ 's eyes widened, and he whispered: ' _inùdoy_ '.

' _Þráinn_ ,' she started slowly, looking at the old man perched up on the rock. 'What the devil is going on?'

' _Þorinn_ ,' he uttered louder, his jaw clenching with determination. Both hands clutched the axe, and Maria noticed with a gasp that his knuckles turned white.

Breathing fast and hard, Maria stared down at the stream. The screams were louder, stronger, and it seemed that more had joined in.

'No, you twit! Where are you going?' she cried, befuddled, staring after the old man's retreating figure. ' _Þráinn_!'

The old man disappeared into the woods. Maria groaned, punching the air with her free hand, jaw clenched tightly in frustration. There was a heavy weight on her shoulders and right now it had nothing to do with her own fate, strangely enough. It was, however, enough for her to start pulling her own hair. What had she gotten herself into?

Maria shut her eyes tightly.

'Bloody hell,' after a moment's hesitation she grabbed her broom and dived into the maze of trees, hacking and slashing with her wand at everything that got in her way.

' _Þráinn_ , where are you?' she shouted, frightfully aware that she was getting closer to a battle zone. 'Whoever this _Þorinn_ is, he doesn't need you to die for him! And then what would I do? Have some sense -'

A thud and a whisper: some other living creature had stirred close by. Maria kept going forward, running pathetically in her heels, but she listened, peering around for the old man. Trees and more trees hindered her way; as she got closer, the screams turned less indistinct until they sounded like orders. However, there was still no sign of _Þráinn_.

Maria cursed the old man and his fast legs.

All of a sudden, a strong hand grabbed her arm. Maria jumped so violently she nearly fell on the ground, struggling to scream and curse her attacker, though she could only whimper as someone pulled her to the bushes. Had her mouth not been covered, she would've blurted an Unforgivable Curse, aiming to kill; it was fortunate that this did not happen, for her attacker was in fact a very concerned _Þráinn_.

Maria's eyebrows shot up.

'- running away didn't make any sense, you arse!' she blurted, managing only a few muffled words. _Þráinn_ put a finger to his lips, and he ducked next to her. Someone shouted nearby, running in the opposite direction; beneath the bushes Maria saw black boots. A foul stench lingered in the air.

' _Zardûna_ ,' the old man whispered, pointing his axe at her broom.

Maria gritted her teeth.

A quick leap to her right and a hop later, Maria and _Þráinn_ flew through the river upwards against the stream. As they kept going forward, the trees grew thicker and greener and the river narrowed, though still wide enough to allow a merry bunch to fill its width.

Traversing the river was not easy; she kept looking around, concerned that they might find more of the twisted creatures from the ruins. The sounds, from somewhere ahead, had grown steadily louder as they approached; unintelligible shouts of pain and the sound of blades crashing resounded in the area. Maria leaned forward on the broom and, at full speed, they soon reached a water gate blocking the main current.

It had sounded like a battle was taking place nearby, but what she saw was much worse. The sight that greeted them was one that burnt itself in Maria's conscience in a way that her first view of Hogwarts or the first time she held her wand, never had.

Her heart was gripped with terror.

It was a battle. A battle unlike she had ever seen, and a rush of nausea surged through her as a golden haired soldier in silver armour fell to the water, impaled with a black spear. The same dark creatures she had seen in the ruins rushed from the woods, most wielding swords and others bows, firing arrow after arrow at the silver soldiers on the gate. With a start, Maria pulled her wand from beneath her cloak and kept it out, although none of the creatures had noticed them yet. Her brain slowly began to register the atrocities she had witnessed.

Wondering what on earth they had walked in the middle of, she began to turn back towards where they came from, lest they were hit by an arrow, but _Þráinn_ 's shout made it impossible for her to turn around.

One of the black creatures scrambled up and aimed its bow at them; Maria, however, was too quick for it, whipping her wand like a madwoman.

' _Confringo_!' she screamed, and an orange, fire-like light erupted from her wand, setting the creature on fire as it exploded. The power behind her spell caught the attention of silver soldiers and creatures alike. Behind her, _Þráinn_ yelled desperately, gripping her middle with one arm, shouting something like a war cry.

All hell had broken loose.

It suddenly struck her how awful this situation was; Maria felt dreadful, and it was bad – worse than she could ever have imagined – because people were dying, and there was little she could do to help. Her spells could turn the tide for this battle, but the soldiers would still die in pain, struck by arrows and cut with swords, defenseless against the horde of beasts coming from the forest.

With a swish of her wand, Maria managed to deflect a shower of arrows, using a cascading jinx to draw back several of the creatures. Two more appeared on her right, but before they take out their bows, Maria shouted ' _Expulso_!' and a burst of blue light threw them off back into the depths of the forest, knocking out more of their kind.

There was much yelling coming from below. Underneath the water gate, Maria saw hands gripping the bars but no more; she didn't have a good angle yet.

' _Þorinn_!' the old man cried from behind her, squirming in his seat as if he wanted to jump.

Maria flew over the gate swiftly, throwing hexes at any creature within distance. The silver soldiers – medieval _Veela_ , she corrected, taking in their long hair for the briefest of seconds – let her be, concentrating on the oncoming beasts instead. A few turned their heads and it was their undoing, but the worse was small group beneath the gate that pointed upwards at her and _Þráinn_.

Someone shouted from beneath the gate, and if Maria wasn't so busy trying to prevent a short, dark haired man from being mangled, she'd have struck down the new group swarming the banks –

It was a split of a second before a well aimed arrow sank into her head. _Þráinn_ plummeted both headfirst towards the surface of the river, shoving Maria out of the broom. The drop was greater than she had estimated, and she hit the water hard, plunging like a stone into a freezing blue, her heart beating madly as she held on to her wand tightly. She kicked towards the surface – or rather, _Þráinn_ did – and emerged, panting, to see her broom floating nearby and a group of black creatures running towards them.

' _Flipendo Tria_!' she blurted, spitting water and shivering. A small tornado appeared near the banks, pushing away all that stood in its way.

' _Zardûna_ ,' the old man beckoned her to him, shielding Maria with his body. ' _Þorinn_!'

Maria blinked away the water. Slowly, the world became less blurry and she saw the group underneath the gate in greater detail, making out beards and long hair of numerous colours and sizes floating on barrels. They were screaming and two of them paddled in their direction, seemingly out of breath.

' _Adad_!' a dark haired man with a short beard shouted, but before he could reach them, the gate opened and they were all dragged by the current.

_Þráinn_ held Maria tightly. She clutched her wand, trying to reach for her broom before someone else took it away.

Above them, the fight continued, a blur of hacking and slashing. Maria let out a whimper as more of the _Veela_ fell into the water, the blood and filth spreading slowly as the current ran towards the gate.

Holding on to _Þráinn_ , Maria saw the group of bearded men disappear with a scream after the gate, and reasoned they must've fallen down the waterfall.

'Hold on!' she shouted, voice hoarse from the cold. They had seconds before falling too, but _Þráinn_ seemed to have understood her meaning, for he tried to mount the broom behind her without slipping –

\- and Maria braced herself, awkwardly positioned on the Nimbus, holding to the handle as if her life depended on it –

But there was no impact, no falling into the running river, because they flew again through the air at full speed, chasing after thirteen barrels.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **IMPORTANT NOTE**  
>  The Middle Earth arch is set during Thorin's quest to Erebor, in the Third Age 2941 (September 13th). This means the Company has already left Beorn's house and set out to Mirkwood.  
> 
> 
> * * *
> 
> A few days later than I wanted, but here it is nonetheless. The next update should be after January 9th, since I'll have a very important exam to ace!
> 
> Thank you so much for your kind reviews, all the follows and faves. I'll be able to answer back to everyone in a few days :3
> 
> Happy New Year!
> 
>  
> 
> **NOTE** : All spells can be found in the Harry Potter Wiki; some are commonly used in the books, while others have been mentioned in the games.
> 
> Þráinn is Old Norse for Thráin, Þorinn for Thorin and Björn for Beorn.
> 
>  
> 
> **Translations** :
> 
> Khuzdul  
> Zardûna – magic lady;  
> Adad – father;  
> Inùdoy – son ;
> 
>  
> 
> **Let me know what you think? =D**


	13. Act II - Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is much crying, Thorin is a bloody good shot and Maria inspects Bilbo's genitals.

 

**Chapter Thirteen: A reunion and a setback**

" _He still lives, I am sure of it."_  
― Thorin,  _DOS_   _EE_

 

 

* * *

 

Desperate shouts issued from below, followed by an uncontrollable sobbing. With a glance over her shoulder, Maria saw tears running down the old man's large nose, harvested by the bitter cold wind that blew her hair back and made her teeth chatter. This display of grief was enough to make her stomach turn, though she said nothing, instead turning her attention towards the endless river in a steady attempt to keep up with the group floating in barrels.

Soon they reached a place where the trees on either side grew thinner and the dark river suddenly opened wide, joining the main current. Here it had stilled; it was lost, just like the horrible creatures that attacked them at the water gate. Ahead, in the middle of the lake, lay a small village, with smoke billowing from rooftops in the distance, dull and brown compared to the green woods. Maria narrowed her eyes at the tall mountain hovering the area, half-expecting to see dragons flying around the peak. Much to her chagrin, there was nothing but a deep blue covering the landscape for miles, the mountain little more than a dark shape in the horizon.

If she wasn't so cold, Maria would've cursed loudly.

Warded by the imposing cliffs, the men in the barrels paddled towards the shore with hands and fallen twigs. She didn't envy them in the least; soaked from head to toe, these men suffered the most as the temperature dropped. A few spat out water while others tried to keep afloat, and she couldn't help but to gape at the small individual – he was certainly much shorter than the old man sharing her broom - clinging on for dear life to one of the barrels, his drenched clothes a bothersome weight for the poor sod who tried to hoist him up. Thick beards and hair of several colours and sizes emerged from time to time, as their owners spat and grumbled before sinking again. Whoever these people were, Maria decided, they weren't good swimmers.

A cool gust of wind rushed from the mountain, pulling at her hair and clothes, and Maria shivered. A fire – or a sauna – would be divine. It struck her that she hadn't washed since the day of the trial; her short encounter with the river didn't clear away the grime of four days of intense adventuring, and she certainly wasn't so lucky that Daphne had thought of including a wardrobe along with the myriad of potions and clever books scattered inside the purse.

A loud commotion snapped Maria out of her musings; she clenched her jaw, uncomfortably aware of herself and the stares she was being subjected to by the odd group in the river.

There had been the occasional glance before, the sort of blatant curiosity that she chose to put up with for the time being – of course, scarce minutes ago she was being chased by raving beasts, and thus had little opportunity to dwell on the overlong stares of strange men. Maria suspected they had never seen a witch before. As much as this inflated a small bubble of pride inside her chest, it also irked her, and the cries and fingers pointed at her broom were not flattering at all.

' _Þráinn_!' one of them shouted, followed by more gawking. Maria's eyes narrowed at an older man a few feet below, his white beard tousled and wet from the ride.

Then, her gaze fell on the madman trying to swim – and failing miserably.

Maria squinted, remembering this one at the gate, fighting to reach them before being dragged down by his own weight. He had broken free of his barrel, hustling the stream rather than swimming properly, a mass of dark hair crying from the water when he wasn't gasping for air. His wretched voice made her heart pound, and she gasped as the man struggled to keep afloat.

'You hairy buffoon,' Maria sputtered, astonished at the idiocy of this act. Was he trying to make his way to them or the shore?

' _Þorinn_ ,'  _Þráinn_  whimpered, shaking hands around her middle. He took several deep breaths, shuddering from either grief or cold, but Maria could only gape.

_Þorinn_?

For an insane moment she wondered whether the man was going to drown.

' _Depulso_ ,' she cried, wand swishing in the air with a tense movement. Maria pointed it at the rocky banks half a mile ahead, hoping the fall wasn't terribly rough, her mind focused on a gentle drop. Though a teensy-weensy tumble perhaps would do him good, she thought – or clear his mind, in the very least. However,between the man's surprised yells as he turned and flailed in the air and the fearful cries from the group, at least  _Þráinn_  was sensible enough to recognize her intentions.

'He's alright, calm down you lot,' she spat, flexing her fingers; magic or not, the man –  _Þorinn_ , she corrected with a grimace - was heavy.

' _Zardûna_ ,' wept  _Þráinn_ , pointing onwards with his maimed hand.

Maria groaned.

Urging the Nimbus forward, the men in the barrels quickly fell behind. In spite of the growing distance, Maria could hear the commotion as if they were still floating beneath her. She glanced quickly over her shoulder and saw a burly, bald-headed man gesturing at her in what looked like an offensive motion with his fist. Behind him several others cried, the terror on their faces a horrifying sight that carved itself in Maria's mind, and she shoved her wand inside her robes, gulping.

They neared the banks. From the corner of her eye, Maria watched, flabbergasted, ast he dark haired man broke a thick branch from its tree and turned around, brandishing it as a weapon. He snarled at them, – at her, Maria huffed – but as they got closer she saw the red eyes and the tear tracks from his crying glistening under the sun -

Without warning,  _Þráinn_ let go of Maria and jumped into the dark, icy waters below.

'You gormless tit!,' Maria hissed, rolling her eyes at the flaying old man. However, before she could take out her wand to prevent disaster, she heard a loud roar from the shore and turned her head towards the noise.

It was too late to do anything; the dark haired stranger had lobbed a small rock at her and his aim was true, hitting Maria's hand with a painful smack that brought tears to her eyes. Behind them echoed a loud cheer.

Such was her surprise that Maria didn't strike back; she simply shrunk on the broom, clutching her hurt hand against her stomach, and if for a second she entertained the idea of throwing a jinx or two, the horrible bleeding gash on her fingers was enough to postpone that course of action. Jaw clenched from pain, she raised her head to look at her attacker and threw him a vicious glare instead, nostrils flaring, though her vision was half-blurry with tears.

He glared at her harder from the shore, dark eyes boring into hers with hatred.

_Þráinn_ seemed to ignore this exchange. A better swimmer than the rest, he kicked ungraciously towards dry land, already halfway near the rocky banks where the water reached his waist. At this point, the dark haired man –  _Þorinn_ , she reminded herself with no small degree of spite, the one they were looking for – broke eye contact with Maria, taking one step forward, then hesitating again before lunging at the old man and throwing strong arms around a thin waist and hugging him close - and then closer still, as if he couldn't bear to leave an inch of space between them.

' _Adad_ ,' he rasped, voice breaking.

Heavy splashing and paddling noises, plus the sound of shouting told Maria that several people were hastening down the still, deep stream towards the spot where the three of them had chosen to get acquainted. Maria drew her wand out with a yelp; her fingers were quickly turning to an ugly purple, which made grasping and flexing painful. With a glance over her shoulder, she noticed some of the group had gathered twigs and branches, waving them menacingly while they hobbled on the barrels. It seemed ridiculous that she had been hit by a common thug, and even more pathetic that a group of ragged  _Muggles_  thought they could defeat a witch.

Rage and desperation rose in her throat like bile. At the same time, a wail issued from below and Maria saw  _Þráinn_ pulling the other man closer as he sank onto his knees, the hateful snarl warped into pitiful sobs, and his hoarse voice trembling as he leaned further into the embrace. Eyes widening, Maria gaped at the free falling tears, feeling like she was witnessing something very private.

' _Þorinn_!'

The voices became louder but no more understandable as the group of men reached the shore. Maria bit her lip, watching the other two in the shallows with a frown as they continued to embrace. She listened with half an ear to their muttered words that sounded oddly soft for such a harsh language, thinking about how much she didn't want to be hit with anything else when her intention was to help, before propping her broom forward towards the shore, away from everyone.

Reaching a safe area, Maria almost fell from the broom clutching her hurt hand. Blood smeared the fabric of her robes while she fumbled with the purse's laces and latches, though the real challenge was to find the  _Dittany_  inside, hidden between stacks of books and boxes filled with potions and lethal poisons.

' _Accio Dittany_ ,' she all but snarled, baring her teeth in a pained grimace. When she finally poured the concoction's brownish liquid on her fingers – after much fumbling with the top with one clumsy hand - Maria breathed in relief that the gash had closed. The pain remained, however, a sharp, bothersome thing that would certainly slow her movements.

Ahead, the group had gathered in a circle in the water. Maria saw the burly men distressed, pacing and splashing with heavy boots; some were wailing as they sank to their knees – but keeping a fair distance from  _Þráinn_  and the one he embraced. It seemed they were torn between caution and distrust, though there was also unmistakable reverence – be it from the ceremonious gazes falling on the old man or the pale, gaping faces of those lost for words.

Maria, on the other hand, received no such attention.

A short individual – the man child, she thought with disgust – and a muscular bloke threw a look of burning intensity in her direction, which Maria returned venomously. The latter turned completely, bearing a thick branch with both hands in a defensive stance, and at his bark several others glanced at her and then converged in a huddle, sending her odd looks.

Surreptitiously, Maria clutched her wand tighter.

Slowly, very slowly, the wailing quietened. Maria's fingers tensed on the hard rock under her, and she briefly thought about creeping away from all this, but ended up remaining still, sitting and hugging herself as the cold wind gushed past her body.

One of the men, a particularly dodgy one with clever eyes and hair sticking out like a bird's nest, seemed to be appraising her, his gaze shifting from her form to her broom and then her wand. It was most uncanny.

'Oh piss off,' she hissed, teeth chattering. There was something fundamentally wrong with this situation, and Maria wasn't too keen on risking another hand to find out why.

' _Muh-REE-uh_!'

Maria wrenched her gaze away from the odd fellow, blinking in surprise as she realized the old man's cry had drawn more unwanted attention. An awkward silence crept in as they stared at each other. Their audience was going through several stages of emotion though most seemed frozen with fear, looking wide-eyed at Maria, as if she was considering throwing the lot of them in the pot.  _Þráinn_  seemed blissfully oblivious to this reaction; in fact, he seemed bent to ignore everyone and everything that wasn't Maria, going as far as getting restrained by his dark haired acquaintance and shoved behind the man's stout body.

The dark haired man let out a growl that sounded an awful lot like ' _Dvalinn_ ', and then something akin to instructions to the rest of the group; soon, Maria was gaping at the semi-organized company of short and bearded men, brandishing all kinds of improvised weapons.

'They're all barking mad,' Maria blurted to no one in particular. A moment passed and then another without Maria moving a muscle, and while her lack of action should've eased the men, it only seemed to further kindle their dread.

Maria wasn't sure what happened next. A lot of things took place, and there was fierce arguing between  _Þráinn_  and the dark haired thug -  _Þorinn_ , she grumbled to herself – before the old man came running to her with eyes flush red from crying, sucking in a breath as he took her hurt hand between his.

_Þráinn_ 's jaw clenched. ' _Zardûna_ ,' he breathed, looking for further injury on her palm. The one called  _Þorinn_  trailed closely behind, and his eyes were red rimmed and swollen. The rest of the group hovered a few steps away.

Maria felt her cheeks redden.

'No need to fuss,' she grumbled, throwing a venomous glare at her attacker. He had an unnecessarily strong grip on the thick wooden branch, his scarred white knuckles popping out. 'W-What's  _that_?' Maria yelped, pointing at the man child poking his head behind one of the larger men with her wand. Immediately they all flinched, crying out in surprise.

_Þráinn_  seemed as jumpy as the rest, though his gaze landed on the small man with the same incredulity as Maria's. However, unlike her,  _Þráinn_  was much quicker to shrug it off.

' _Banakil_ ,'  _Þráinn_  replied stiffly, returning to his examination of Maria's hand. He then muttered something harsh, and the other man -  _Þorinn_  – answered back, puffing in anger and quickly flushing to a brilliant red when the old man hissed again in the same rough language.

Behind them, the group lowered their "weapons" with the exception of the tattooed brute, who required a strong pat to the back and some admonishing before being able to stand at ease. Maria frowned, recoiling a bit further in her seat.

There was some shuffling, and Maria thought she heard the sound of bare feet. Much to her surprise, the man child was the only one brave enough to address her, waving his hand politely as he uttered in mid-bow: ' _Bilba Labingi_.'

'Right.' Maria's eyebrows jumped towards her hairline. If that was a name, it sounded female. A brief inspection southwards proved otherwise – because yes, there was a bulge down there, hidden beneath a pair of wet tweed trousers that reached just above the short man's calves. And then – well -

Maria's gaze fell at once on a pair hairy feet, their prominent size somewhat disproportionate – or just plain odd, she thought as her eyes widened – given the man's puerile figure. For a moment she was dumbstruck, convinced this was a child and not some unfortunate fellow suffering from an awkward sort of nanism; whatever the case, Maria reckoned she had encountered a beardless whelp of a dwarf – or, worst case scenario, a  _goblin_.

But he didn't look anything like a goblin. Goblins were about the same size, and while she was certain their eyes shared an uncomfortable acuteness, the man in front of her seemed lively, more relaxed despite the circumstances, and his eyes were clear and soft, not coal black and empty. A bit worse for wear, yes, but this was most likely due to the bumpy barrel ride.

_Þráinn_ had given her a hint: the word ' _banakil_ ' lingered in her mind, foreign as it was, though she couldn't connect it to English. It didn't sound like Latin either, but Maria was no expert. This world was a strange place, filled with wild magic and creatures she had never seen before.

A fair assessment, though when Maria finally settled on the little fellow's species – a humanoid of sorts – she noticed the round stomach, and the soaked crimson vest clothing his torso. For some reason she was reminded of British gentlemen. Further examining revealed a middle aged face with a few wrinkles that gave him a fussy look, though he puffed his cheeks as Maria's eyes roamed over his body, going through several shades of pink. He was little out of sorts from the rest of the group.

Maria bit her lip. She tried to be discrete on her observation of the odd men, taking in their differences and comparing them to the little fellow and herself. They were – with no exceptions – shorter than her, despite one or two who seemed capable of reaching her forehead. It was complicated for Maria to verify this while sitting down.

Curiosity flashed in the small man's eyes, and his gaze flickered from Maria's wand to her broom and then her purse, for the briefest of seconds. It was enough for Maria to clutch her wand tighter, feeling oddly protective of her things. The man seemed to have noticed how her eyes narrowed at his imprudence, for he nodded sharply before scurrying off to hide behind one of the others, – or one of them hid the man from her sight, she wasn't sure - though not before giving Maria one last once-over.

The bearded men exchanged concerned looks, muttering amongst themselves.

'Please,  _please_ , can someone make me understand what's going on here?' said Maria, feeling anger bubbling in her stomach. 'Anyone?'

There was more muttering. Maria saw the last few lowering their weapons, blinking slowly at each other as if something had confused them. Even  _Þorinn_  seemed taken aback.

Maria rolled her eyes. ' _Þráinn_?' she called in a small voice. The old man looked up at her from his crouching position and smiled gently, though this did nothing to reassure her.

' _Muh-REE-uh_ ,' he repeated, and his only blue eye twinkled with gratitude. Then, he pointed shakily at the dark haired man behind him. '  _Þorinn_ ,' he rasped, a single tear falling down his cheek as he placed a fist to his chest. ' _Inùdoy_.'

Maria frowned.

'I really don't understand,' she said slowly, glancing at the dark haired man -  _Þorinn_ , her  _attacker –_  and taking in the broad shoulders and long nose, so similar to  _Þráinn_ 's, despite their clear age difference. The man held her gaze proudly and only with the slightest hint of shame; Maria immediately noticed how his eyes were the same colour as  _Þráinn_ 's, only colder.

A sudden shiver made Maria crash back into herself, as though being hit by sledgehammer.

'Fuck my life,' she groaned stupidly, lowering her gaze back to  _Þráinn_ , only to find the old man smiling as if she was a gift from the heavens.

_Þráinn_ held her hand. ' _Þorinn_ ,' he said, glancing at the other fellow. ' _Muh-REE-uh_.'

The man,  _Þorinn_ , nodded, wearing the look of one who is polite only because he must. Out of caution, Maria reasoned wearily. In this case, she could feel the tension and hostility emanating from everyone but the old man; she wasn't sure what had happened with  _Þráinn_ or why she had found him in that ruin when she did, and it baffled her that they had been so lucky as to find exactly who he was looking for. It seemed too much of a coincidence. Nevertheless, she was here, and despite the blatant trust issues, Maria had to reach this  _Erebor_  place and find the magical community. The old man might've found what he needed, but she was far from it -

Maria sucked in a sharp breath.

Somehow, her hand – the one  _Þráinn_  had been tending not two minutes ago – had found its way inside the purse and she had been fumbling aimlessly inside it, feeling the leathery walls that stretched magically for miles – or not, she wasn't sure how it worked – and the potions, books and vials and other unmentionable things were all there except for -

_The parchment_.

'Oh no,' Maria mumbled, skin paling as pure panic coursed through her veins, jolting up and down her spine and pounding in her chest as if she was going to faint at any moment. She ventured a glance at  _Þráinn_ , but the old man was facing her with an expressionless look that quickly twisted into a confused frown. Another glance told her that the rest of the group shared similar expressions, though most were wary, probably expecting something foul and magical to happen. Maria waved away these thoughts, and promptly shoved another hand inside the purse and started taking out its contents.

'No, no,  _no_ ,' Maria wailed, ignoring the new wave of whispering and pointing from the group. ' _Accio_  parchment,  _Accio_  parchment! _Accio_!'

The old man seemed alarmed. ' _Zardûna_ ,' he grabbed her arm to calm her down, but Maria wrenched free from his grasp, throwing more books to the rocky ground in full fledged panic.

'Shit, shit, shit,  _shit_ ,' Maria felt her eyes starting to water. She needed that parchment, it was her one-way ticket back home, it had to be, and now she had lost it -

'Let me go!' she cried, struggling to free herself from the old man's strong grasp on her arms. The tip of her wand started popping angry red sparkles. 'You don't understand,  _let me go you old git_  -'

' _Zardûna_ ,'  _Þráinn_  said firmly. Behind him,  _Þorinn_  growled dangerously.

Maria grabbed an old Charms book and ripped a thread of its page, waving the yellowed bit in front of the old man's face.  _Þráinn_ 's eyes widened in understanding.

'I need to find it, don't you understand?' she whimpered, as real tears now streamed down her cheeks.

He knew of it, of course. Whatever magic resided in that small piece of paper had healed  _Þráinn_ 's madness, or broken a powerful curse that festered in his mind for years – possibly decades, given the thick mane, now more white than grey, and the ageing wrinkled skin. Maria's face had blanked with fear at the thought of losing the parchment, but the possibility of letting  _Þráinn_  lay his eyes on those curved letterings again was equally concerning; what if he went mad permanently?

Her heart raced at the thought of never returning home to her father.

Maria managed to free herself from the old man's grasp, leaving him and the rest of the group befuddled as she rummaged through her now empty purse – one of them gasped, pointing at the small pouch in awe and fear, having already backed away a few precious steps. Maria fell to her knees, staring at the purse even though her vision was blurry, her hurt hand paining her again, and with a swish of her wand the scattered contents flew back inside their container - and she stood up, heading for the river with her broom -

Surely she must've lost it when they fell in the stream at the water gate -

'You're not coming!' she shrieked, pointing her wand at  _Þráinn_. The other men all brandished their weapons again, though Maria ignored them.

But the old man was stubborn; despite his short size and the fact that he was in the presence of a witch, he crossed the rocky shore with a determination that was marginally arrogant, until he stood in front of her wand, the tip poking his tattooed forehead in defiance.

Maria risked a glance at the group – they were oddly silent. The dark haired one,  _Þorinn_ , had flushed to an ugly purple, standing frozen in mid-movement, and Maria feared he'd try to kill her for this.

'Stay here,' she croaked after taking a deep breath, withdrawing her wand. With a motion of her hand, the broom rose in the air and she mounted it, issuing frightened gasps from the group. 'I need to find that parchment.'

_Þráinn_  remained mute, staring at Maria with a hurt frown while she, on the other hand, looked down at her own shadow on the ground to avoid direct confrontation. However, somehow Maria managed to get a glimpse of  _Þorinn_ hovering behind the old man and surreptitiously watched the myriad of emotions crossing the man's face: the hideous blotchy purple had turned into a pasty colour, bound to pale further, and his lips had parted in confusion as tears trailed down his beard – though Maria pretended to ignore this entirely, uncomfortable with such a display of emotion.

'I don't want you to come,' she lied, almost whispering the words. A bout of jealously stirred within her chest as she looked from  _Þráinn_  to  _Þorinn_  - her attacker, the one who'd drag her unlikely companion away.

A horrible setback if there was ever one. What was this  _Þorinn_ person to  _Þráinn_ , exactly?

_Þráinn_  didn't answer her, but what could he have said that would ease her mind? Instead he turned to  _Þorinn_ , and spoke to him softly, almost tentatively, as if trying to explain something; though whatever the old man meant was poorly received, and soon soft words turned into a hiss, and then into a snarl. Maria sighed, rolling her eyes as a new argument between the two began.

'You people do make the most surprising elliptical conversation,' she groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose.  _Þráinn_  still kept a firm grip on her broom, refusing to let Maria fly away. 'Stubborn old git,' Maria added on an afterthought.

Maria realized was being stared at by the odd group and their dark haired acquaintance. The latter had a crazed look that was almost pitiful, and his eyes nearly popped out of their sockets as an unhealthy reddish flush crept on his cheeks. She saw his eyes drifting from her to the old man – and what had she done to be in the end of such a hateful gaze? She'd dragged  _Þráinn_  from the pits of insanity against all hope, fled from a shadow and saved their sorry backsides from those horrible creatures. A little appreciation would be nice. Was it her magic?

However, if Maria wasn't blind then she certainly wasn't deaf. While it was increasingly difficult for her to understand these people, she could hear them shivering from a distance, teeth chattering and hands rubbing their damp, sturdy bodies. A trip down the river had its penalties. Maria could only wonder why none of them looked too sick – with the exception of the little man with hairy feet. That one sneezed loudly, shivering from head to toe.

One of the men had placed a hat on his head, dripping water from the ears. It wouldn't do him any good. In fact, it looked utterly ridiculous on him; the hat was too big and floppy for the little man's head, having sunken down below his ears, so that Maria didn't know if the man could see anything beyond brown fabric.

A moan of pain wrenched Maria's gaze towards the rocks: she saw a young man sitting on a large boulder, leaning forward as he grimaced, wrapping a a piece of cloth around his leg. Two others were near him in a joint effort of managing the injury.

Maria started chewing on her lip, deep in thought. This reminded her that the creatures were still lurking about.

'I need to go,' she snarled all of a sudden, trying to shove  _Þráinn'_ s hand away.

The old man held on to the broom, forcing it down before she could take off. ' _Zardûna_ ,' he said, and this time he growled, a raspy sound that was both cavernous and deep, too strong for such an elderly person. He said something else that she couldn't understand, but it sounded important, and there was such dignity in his words that Maria gulped.

' _No_ ,' Maria insisted, frowning at the endearment. New attempts to coerce the old man to stay on shore proved fruitless. 'I'm not going to risk losing that parchment because you're having loyalty issues -'

' _Adad_ ,' pleaded  _Þorinn_  faintly. Maria felt her heart sink.

'Please stay with the loopy woodcutters over there,' she said in a weary voice. 'I don't need you to help me with my business.'

She was sure he couldn't understand her, never could, as their flawed communication system was an improvised mixture of gestures and words that meant little to the other, build on such short notice that her eyebrows would rise in surprise whenever  _Þráinn_ understood what she meant before Maria strained to provide a better explanation. He had caught a few English words, without a doubt – something she hadn't bothered to do. And now the look of disbelieving betrayal  _Þráinn_ gave her was almost painful to bear.

'I owe you nothing,' she said dismissively, turning her head at the still waters of the stream. 'Run along with your friends if you will, and leave me be.' Maria blinked back a few traitorous tears.

It was after a short silence when  _Þráinn_ 's hand left her broom. Maria's gaze lowered to the polished wood, feeling her body move a few inches upwards as if a great weight had lifted. Then she nodded stiffly, still looking down, before venturing a glance at the old man who kept quiet as a statue.

' _Zardûna_ ,' he rasped, placing a hand on her arm. Maria frowned. 'Erebor,' and with this  _Þráinn_  pointed at the mountain far away with his middle finger, eyes boring into Maria's.

_A promise_.

'Right,' she muttered, glancing at the high peak. The other man,  _Þorinn_ , looked taken aback, blinking wildly as he looked from Maria to  _Þráinn_. The rest of the lot shared similar expressions. ' _Right_ ,' she repeated, jumping startled when  _Þráinn_ patted her arm, a single tear falling from his blue eye.

Maria hesitated, biting her lip as she glanced somewhere behind the men. Then, she shoved a hand inside her purse and rummaged within it, arm sinking down to her elbow before taking out a vial of  _Dittany_. 'Apply this on his wounds,' she hissed, giving  _Þráinn_ the vial. No further instructions were required, as  _Þráinn_ instantly looked at the young man on the rocks with a knowing expression. 'I have enough to heal myself for the next three years. Pray, don't mention it,' the last part was added with a grimace.

Then Maria rose in the air, issuing fearful gasps from the men, wand at the ready as she flew over the river again towards the water gate. If she ever glanced at the men on the shore and focused on the old man's concerned face, then it was just for a second.

She was alone again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **EDIT:** I'm thinking about starting a series of drabbles/one-shots about Maria's early life and in the POV of the dwarves/the people Maria encounters who can't understand her. This scene would be one of the first, but I'd like to know you opinion first. Any requests?
> 
>  
> 
> **A/N:** Guys, I'm really sorry for the delay. This past month has been terribly hard for me, and I couldn't get much done. My father's been very ill since October and had a stroke at the very end of January, so we've been in and out of the hospital ever since. The doctors don't know what's wrong with him yet, though they've narrowed it down to a possible diagnosis of either cancer in his kidney (he's got a huge dilated mass that's currently squishing his liver and hurting his back to the point he almost can't move), infection or an extremely rare condition (a tumor inside his vena cava). After two CAT scans and a biopsy (which we'll know the results on Wednesday), it's still uncertain. When I'm not worrying myself sick, I'm banging my head on the walls and trying not to ask myself why House MD isn't real.
> 
> On the bright side, I aced my exam and got a freelance job as an illustrator for a single project at a startup. Along with this story, these have been the things which keep me from having a nervous meltdown.
> 
> The next update will come up at the end of February or during March, can't say for sure. Hopefully you can find this chapter entertaining.
> 
>  
> 
> Þráinn is Old Norse for Thráin, Þorinn for Thorin and Björn for Beorn.
> 
>  
> 
> **Translations:**
> 
>  
> 
> Khuzdul
> 
> Zardûna – magic lady;
> 
> Adad – father;
> 
> Inùdoy – son ;
> 
> Westron
> 
> Banakil – halfling;
> 
> Bilba Labingi – Bilbo Baggins;
> 
> Spells:
> 
> Depulso (Banishing Charm) – sends objects or people away;
> 
> Let me know what you think? =)


	14. Act II - Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A brief interlude. Important note at the end.

**Chapter Fourteen: Bad Luck**

 

“ _Short cuts make long delays.”_  
― _J. R. R. T_ _olkien_

 

 

* * *

 

After the fifth spell, Maria felt something dark and bitter crawl in the back of her throat.

The journey back proved longer and more painful than expected. Her arms were sore from throwing jinx after jinx, and there was a barely tolerable stiffness in her legs that just didn't seem to go away. It only got worse when she locked them around the broom – though it was a necessary evil, as every pirouette and poorly executed U-turn helped to divert the raining arrows.

Her movements were also slower, mostly due to a grating pain that intensified when she gripped her wand to slash the air in a rage. Her thoughts turned to the dark-haired man and his companions, and there was a flicker of displeasure that was quickly replaced by concern at the idea of a lifeless blue eye gazing at the sky. But there was little time for Maria to dwell on this.

She took a sharp intake of breath and then shouted, pointing her wand at the cliff below: a bright white light erupted from the tip, and Maria watched with wide eyes as the air exploded.

‘ _Shit_ ,’ she yelped. Spinning like a wheel, Maria felt her body being flung through the air, and all she could do was to hold on as tightly as possible.

A cloud of thick smoke billowed up as the once clear sky was now shielded by a veil of grey and brown. Maria took this chance to fly away until she was near the tree tops; her eyes were watering as wisps swirled upwards, and she coughed the remnants of dirt that entered through her nose.

Squinting at her coat, she immediately shook the dirt off, making a sound between a grunt and a cough when the green fabric stayed stubbornly soiled.

Below, the river flooded; the razing had taken down a cliff. Maria risked a peek, and nearly gasped when she saw that the wide width had been blocked with earth and stone. She briefly wondered whether _Þráinn_ was watching the smoke trailing over the trees or heard the explosion, and hoped the old man would be sensible and go somewhere safe –

Maria choked when an arrow flew past her leg and sunk into the Nimbus. She nearly lost balance over the impact, but miraculously managed to stay on top of the broom, shaking and breathing heavily as she gaped, gazing down: a dozen survivors were aiming their bows in her direction. Even if she couldn’t understand the threatening growls, there was no mistaking their intentions.

‘ _Confringo!_ ’ she cried, taking this chance to fly away.

As she soared upwards Maria ventured a glance over her shoulder. She gulped, a little more than relieved at the fair distance since the last spell had started a fire, and now there was dark smoke swallowing the sky and red flames licking the trees, and she knew a dreadful gut-wrenching pang when it spread, as if she had destroyed something that was meant to endure.

With one last glance, she made out a lone creature standing on the edge of the cliff and shuddered under its gaze.

 

oooOOOooo

 

 

It wasn’t long before Maria could make out a stone wall in the distance stretching over the width of the river, and a hint of a gate at the bottom. But it was closed now, and she saw no silver soldiers nearby. They had vanished like pale ghosts under the dimming light of day, as if the only guardians of the forest were the trees themselves.

She shuddered for no particular reason, and wondered if this had something to do with the dark smoke trailing upwards. An odd sixth sense told her so; as Maria sniffed the air, she felt the heavy scent of scorched wood and ash fill her nostrils. It was a terrible smell; fire and woodland shouldn’t mingle. A forest should be green and lively, not black and dying, she thought crestfallen, as honest remorse bubbled inside her chest.

A faint scent of pine lingered in the air, but the very act of breathing made her nostrils burn, as if this was fresh mint.

Soon Maria landed on cold flagstones with tantalizing care, half-expecting to be rounded up. She narrowed her eyes, taking in the silent landscape with mistrust. Here and there, blood marked the grey stone.

The forest seemed old, – _too old_ , Maria thought with no small suspicion, as her eyes swept frantically over the ground covered in grass and twigs. There was something off about it in a way she couldn't explain, almost as if there was magic emanating from every tree and rock, around her and underneath her feet on the smooth stone platform. She had felt it before in the ruins and in the giant man's house. But here it was different, _wilder_ , if that was even possible. Not for the first time, Maria felt she had crossed some kind of threshold that wasn’t meant for her.

Gripping her wand tightly, she regarded the scenery for a brief moment: it had been impossible to notice the green fields before, how the trees rose upwards, well above her head like skyscrapers in a city conquered by the undergrowth. With all the slashing and stabbing, Maria had been focused on too many things at the same time to gaze upon the quiet beauty of the forest.

But there was no sound or birdsong, and it unnerved her. She could only hear the crackling and snapping of trees as they burned in the distance, dimming the soft hum of the river.

' _Accio_ _parchment_!' she cried, looking around madly for a piece of paper flying her way.

Lip quivering, she waited to hear something, _anything_ , that resembled the dry scratching of paper on grass or under scattered wood, struggling to get to her – had it not slipped out of her purse when she fell in the water, washed away by the river.

Looking a perfect picture of desperation, Maria stored her broom in the purse and ran down the shallow steps to the bank.

She whimpered at the sight of black staining the ground. There were no bodies anymore; someone had taken the fallen. The only evidence that there had been any sort of fight was the black liquid – and what an unusual colour for blood it was – pooling near the water in small puddles like spilled ink.

‘ _Accio, accio parchment_ -’ sobbed Maria. But it was in vain.

A warm wind from the East blew in her face, and Maria coughed the specks of ash that filled her nose. It was as if the forest was mocking her.

'I _knew_ we should never have come here,' she whined while addressing the skies. ' _I knew it!_ '

Furious, Maria kicked and punched the water. It wasn’t long until her robes were soaked.

And thus, it was with a heavy heart that Maria plopped down on the nearest piece of dry land, staring straight ahead with her lips parted and eyebrows raised in bewilderment. She shook her head. As if there was something on the opposite side of the river other than trees and grass that could answer all her problems – which were not a lot, she had to admit. But what they lacked in number, they surpassed in everything else.

Numbly, Maria tipped the end of her wand on the water. It started bubbling.

 _This is Hell_ , she thought, burying her head in her hands. _And I'm fucked_.

The parchment was gone, or at least gone somewhere else. For an insane moment she considered taking out her broom and surveying the river in detail, but this posed a few issues regarding her safety. That _thing_ , even if it was magical, would've been swallowed by a hungry carp.

Coughing, Maria wrinkled her nose at the horrible scent in the air. Her eyes burned, her body was sore and everything was falling to pieces. She thought about her father, wondering if he was alright and whether he missed her as much as she did him. It seemed like she had been in this place for a lifetime. Had it really been just a few days?

Glancing miserably over the gate, she watched the flames as a moist trail ran down her face. It was surprisingly cold, but then again, the air was becoming hotter by the minute.

Then, just as she was thinking about what to do next, she heard a tense sound, like string being pulled.

' _Man de?_ ' someone called. ' _Man ceridh hí?_ '

Maria snapped her head, looking for the source. Then, she froze.

It would've been impossible for Maria to notice how the outlines on the opposite bank weren't trees at all; one by one, a dozen archers came out of the darkness, clad in brown and green. They had blended with the forest, almost as if they were a part of it – and surely there was some truth to this, because the voice seemed to have come from everywhere at once.

_'Tíro nin.'_

Unknown hands dragged Maria roughly off the ground. Before she could stop them, someone seized her wand, and she was twirled around towards a man as tall as a young tree, whose fair face was partially cloaked in shadow. He considered Maria, taking in her robes with bewilderment. At his belt was a long white knife.

And then there it was again. That divine smell of fresh pine that shouldn't quite persist, not when thick clouds blocked the dwindling light of day. Now Maria knew where it came from, and it frightened her to think that she had been watched for all this time.

' _Man de?_ ' the man repeated, drawing his bow. She noticed his sharp ears at once, and was reminded of the man-child at the lake, now fairly certain that they were two of a kind and that _Þráinn_ didn't share this. She frowned, starting to doubt her previous convictions regarding these individuals – Veela's ears were regular shaped, not pointy, like a house elf's.

Despite her musings, Maria remained silent. Experience told her answering would be useless.

Swift as a breeze, another one – an archer, for he too held a bow - appeared next to Maria. Like the other man, he too was fair and strong. He had her wand and eyed it warily, keeping it in a safe distance. ' _Hir nín_ ,' he said, drawing his arm. With one last glance at her clothes, he ran towards the gate where others waited, armed and vigilant. As she regarded the mob, Maria's heart skipped a beat and she dissolved into tears. She was grossly outnumbered.

With this, more soldiers came into sight, materializing from the forest; two dragged one of the beasts who was bound by either rope or chain, a thin thing that glowed silver like stardust in the night. However, though it was bound, the creature hadn't been gagged. It growled from afar, glaring at Maria with both fear and hatred in its odd eyes.

' _Shatraug_!' it roared, struggling against its captors.

Maria took a step backwards when the creature lunged forward, making horrible noises with its throat as it thrashed on the ground, spitting at her a thunder of words that couldn't be anything but violent. Wincing, she closed her eyes just in time to avoid watching it being beaten into submission. When the growling subsided, Maria saw a pair of yellow eyes staring back at her with an ugly scowl.

'Give me back my wand!' Maria whimpered, but to no avail. The grip around her arms only tightened. Whatever the creature had said, everyone but her must've understood it, for they now observed her even less amicably.

Without warning, the fair man lowered his bow and, in a swift, well coordinated movement, the others mirrored him. Maria trembled, struggling to interpret what the man said when he spoke to her next. This time his words felt less musical, and she wondered whether he had switched to another language. Maria wasn't sure, but it seemed as if he was posing a question. Crestfallen, she shook her head, mumbling tearful apologies.

As more black smoke rose in the pinking horizon, a deathlike quiet fell upon the clearing. The tall man frowned but said nothing, nimble fingers twirling her wand with care, like it was made of glass. His gaze was fixed on the delicate wood work at the handle, but soon confusion turned into fear; perhaps sensing her anxiety, the wand produced tiny red sparks that, upon hitting the ground, set fire to the undergrowth. Maria paled, watching helplessly as the man stomped on the small flames with one brown boot.

The man sent her a peculiar look, twisted with grief.

' _Gewdho den_ ,' he said at last, with great urgency. ' _Boe ammen gwad_.'

Maria's tears continued to fall. That didn't sound good.

And it certainly wasn't. Soon they were on the move, and Maria was forced to trail after a dozen armed men through narrow and uneven paths, dragged like the growling creature, her hands bound behind her back with magical rope – for there was a spell cast on it, without a doubt. She had felt the magic engulfing her like a glove.

There was no golden light to be seen; night had fallen with little warning. Trees rose higher and higher above their heads, casting strange shadows below. Brown leaves fell into piles, descending slowly from the upper branches as they stripped for the season. The trunks were wide, covered in healthy green moss that stretched away from floor to top. The mess of the undergrowth and roots on the ground cleared as they went further into the heart of the forest; and gradually the path smoothed, until Maria felt no trace of ground, only solid rock under her shoes.

However, Maria avoided gazing at the narrow trails away from the main path. The terrifying shadows flickering around the corners of her sight must be a trick, for how could a place so magnificent be so frightening?

But there was little time for Maria to contemplate such matters. They kept a steady pace, never leaving the path, always forward. Perhaps she would be more inclined to appreciate the unearthly beauty of the forest if it were not for her circumstances.

At long last, they reached a a tall gate and there were several cries of ' _Na vedui!_ ', which Maria assumed was something akin to relief. Shivering from the cold, she gazed up at the approaching doors which were as tall as trees, gaping at the intricate carvings over metal that endeavoured to represent an organic structure.

'Goodness,' she breathed, eyes puffy and glistening from the tears she spilled.

With a loud groan of reluctance, the gates slowly swung forward, revealing two guards in silver armour, each holding a large sword. Maria couldn't help but to shed a few more tears, wishing she had her wand with her.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Þráinn is Old Norse for Thráin, Þorinn for Thorin and Björn for Beorn.
> 
>  
> 
> Translations:  
> Southern/Silvan Sindarin  
> Man ceridh hí – What are you doing here?  
> Tíro nin – Look at me.  
> Gwedho den – Bind her.  
> Boe ammen gwad – We must go.
> 
>  
> 
> Without further ado, my apologies for posting Chapter 14 so late. As some of you know, my father's sickness took a turn for the worst, and after very quick and unexpected developments, he passed on March 3rd this year, in 2015. Notwithstanding the horrible emotional pain that follows the death of a parent, I had the worst six months of my life.
> 
> I've had this chapter planned and mostly written for a few months now, only I couldn't really bring myself to finish it. After I finished my exams, the free time was a real kick in the gut. I only managed to do well in college despite this whole situation because I was drowning in work, trying not to overthink about all our problems at home. I won't lie; it's been hell. All I want is for everything to get solved as soon as possible so we can get on with our lives. 
> 
> For all of you who have been asking me to update, I'm very sorry that I couldn't do it sooner. I split this chapter in two, otherwise I'd take a few more days going through the whole piece, and I just don't have enough time to do it right now. However, I promise the next part will come in mid December, hopefully before or during Christmas. It'll probably come with fanart, since I spent some time sketching a few scenes during the holidays. 
> 
> This chapter isn't very long; it's only has 2487 words, but the next part will return to the usual 5,000 length, and it will have more action and dialogue, plus Maria's first real contact with elves. It will help her understand a few things about where she is, and just what she needs to do in order to go home. 
> 
> If I have some free time soon to revise and edit, I'll post Balin's POV from Chapter 13. Until then, I hope you enjoy this one, even if it's brief and has no dwarves. 
> 
> A very heartfelt thank you for all of you who stuck around for so long.  
> I'll see you all very soon.  
> -Rita

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you are enjoying this story; any questions feel free to ask in the comment area! I'm also cross-posting on fanfiction.net and the story will be updated at the same time in both websites. 
> 
>  
> 
> You can find me on tumblr: **http://madametortilla.tumblr.com/**


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